


Dear Agony

by RandomWordsAndStormyDays



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Complete, Dumb Characters, For All Characters, If everyone would just say how they feel this all could have been avoided, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, nate is in the first chapter but after that he's not really important, which is funny since they're trying to save his life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-19
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2020-05-14 21:57:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 22,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19281997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RandomWordsAndStormyDays/pseuds/RandomWordsAndStormyDays
Summary: Nate has been in constant danger since the moment he entered the new world that has settled over Boston. He has faced an endless stream of close calls: a super mutant behemoth in the Commons, a well-placed shot from a pissed off Gunner, an infected bite from a feral ghoul, and a three story fall when he lost his grip sneaking away from raiders. Nothing has ever been enough to put him down for good.Then, Nate gets sick. Really sick.In order to save their fearless leader Deacon and Maccready travel to Vault 81 in search of a cure. There they get closer than before, and Maccready has a choice to make: keep pining after his boss, who hasn’t shown an interest in him to date, or accept the offer that Deacon has so willingly laid at his feet.





	1. Down With The Sickness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something is wrong with Nate, Deacon and Maccready have to figure out how to help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I hope you enjoy what I've got for this fic so far. I'd love to keep posting chapters, but I need to hear from y'all that you want that. Otherwise there's no real motivation to continue. So, read, hopefully enjoy, and then let me know if you want to see more.

Nate has almost died a hundred times since he stepped out of the vault. 

The first time was when he was helping rescue Preston and the other Quincy survivors from raiders and a stray bullet caused the truck next to him to explode. Even in the power armor he had been blasted back into one of the brick buildings that lined the road. Only Preston’s quick work with a stimpack had saved him from ending his story before it even started. 

The second, third, and fourth time that Nate nearly died had all been due to wasteland creatures. A dog, a yao gui, and a ragstag respectively. Eventually, he learned that carrying fresh strips of meat was his best chance of distracting nearly all of the wild animals that wanted to harm him. 

After that it was an endless stream of close calls: a super mutant behemoth in the Commons, a well-placed shot from a pissed off Gunner, an infected bite from a feral ghoul, and a three story fall when he lost his grip sneaking away from raiders. 

Nate has been in constant danger since the moment he entered the new world that has settled over Boston, but that hadn’t stopped him from blowing up an airship, infiltrating a scientific community of modern-day slave owners, and then blowing them up, too. He had stood, side-by-side with his new Army as they shot down the mother of all sea creatures and survived, even after taking a stream of acid to the leg. He looked death in the face with every secret code phrase he spoke and every note dropped in a well-hidden but obviously marked mailbox. Nothing has ever been enough to put him down for good. 

Maybe that’s why he’s so surprised when his luck finally runs out. 

/// 

It starts out simple enough: Nate wakes feeling like death warmed over. His muscle ache, his throat is sore, and his nose is running fast enough that he has to use his sleeve to keep the snot from running down his face. He’s not a pretty sight, as Maccready readily tells him when he manages the strength to make it to breakfast. 

“You looks like shit, er crap, boss.” Maccready glances over at Duncan, who is sat next time him at the dining table, but the young boy is engrossed too deeply in his attempts to force a square block into a round hole to notice the slip. Deacon, however, notices and lifts a hand out towards the young sniper, who begrudgingly hands over a cap. One more for the swear jar. 

Maccready’s statement is met with an eye roll from Nate that sends a wave of pain across the vault dweller’s skull and down behind his ears. Nate groans and uses his fingers to press gently at his temples in an attempt to will the pain away. When that doesn’t work he groans out and drops his head onto the table. He does it gently enough that it doesn’t make the pain any worse, but it also doesn’t make it any better. 

“I miss Tylenol and Advil.” He mutters into the splintered wood. “Nowadays you have to run the risk of addiction if you want to get rid of pain.” 

Someone across the table from him snorts and he peeks his eyes open and watches Hancock sit down. “You don’t take enough to get addicted, that’s overusing it.” The ghoul pulls out a container of chems from one of his many hidden pockets and slides it over to him. “Just a little hit of Buffout will get you your strength back. Besides, it’s not like we don’t have addictol.” 

Nate considers the offer, what’s really the harm in taking one Buffout hit? 

“C’mon boss, is it really that bad you wanna take chems?” Disapproval is clear in Deacon’s question and while he can’t see his eyes Nate can see the concerns written in his posture. 

“If you’re going to take them can you do it away from Duncan? I don’t want him getting the wrong idea.” Maccready is always very careful about what gets said or done in front of his son, and Nate understands that. 

Nate drops his head back onto the table and coughs roughly, once that subsides he clears his throat to answer. “I’m not taking any chems, Mac, I’ll be fine, it’s just a cold or maybe the flu.” He sniffs and wipes at his nose before sitting up. “It’s been more than 200 years since I got a flu shot, I’m sure it’ll go away in a few days.” 

Everyone seems to accept this. Hancock gives a mocking salute before reclaiming his chems and shoving them into his jacket pocket. Deacon seems to relax as soon as the chems are gone and says something about a dead drop before excusing himself from the table. Maccready’s attention has already been diverted back to his son, who somehow managed to get his hands on a jagged piece of metal. Nate squints against the bright sun before deciding that today is a fine day to stay in bed. His pleasantries fall on deaf ears as he makes his way back to his home. 

The next morning is even worse. Nate wakes in a cold sweat, both too cool and too hot, with one leg stuck outside the covers. The aching in his muscles has only gotten worse, he feels like he went ten rounds with Cait, and lost. The headache from the day before, which was at an almost bearable level, now pounds in his skull like a rampaging deathclaw. He can only really breathe from one nostril and his throat is sore enough that when he goes to speak all that comes out is a raspy cough that sends a wave of pain down the rest of his body. 

He rolls into a position that allows him to sit up and finds that by the time he’s vertical that he’s winded and exhausted. A quick glance around the room reveals that there’s no purified water in sight, so with what little strength he can manage Nate hefts himself onto his feet and makes for the door. As soon as the covers slip from him he begins to shake, but a hand to his forehead shows that he’s actually burning up. 

Entering the living room he’s surprised to see Deacon waiting for him. Then he vaguely recalls Deacon telling him that the dead drop contained coordinates for a supply run, and he thinks that he might have agreed to go with him. 

Upon noticing Nate, Deacon hops to his feet and rushes over. 

“I don’t think you should be out of bed, Wanderer, you look worse than yesterday.” He goes to respond to Deacon, tell him that he’s fine, but nothing coherent comes out when he speaks, just torn sounds that might have, at one point, been words. The concerned crease on Deacon’s forehead deepens and he hooks an arm around Nate’s waist. “C’mon, let’s get you back to bed.” 

Nate shakes his head but the motion makes him dizzy and he stumbles, only staying upright due to the firm grip that Deacon has on his middle. The spy grimaces and tightens his grip before leading Nate to the couch. As they walk Nate tries to communicate again. It hurts to clear his throat, but Nate does it anyways and manages to speak. “Water.” It comes out pained and breathy. 

Deacon settles him onto the worn leather couch before pulling back and glancing around the room. “I don’t see any in here. Let me run out to the provisions shack. I’ll be right back.” He’s gone before Nate can try and tell him that there’s water in his cupboards. 

Against his better judgement, since that left him around the same time he made himself dizzy, Nate shoves himself off of the couch and heads for his kitchen. He’s about to reach the island in the middle when suddenly his vision tilts sharply to the left. Nate tries to counterbalance the shift in sight but overcorrects and manages only to lose his balance and wind up on the floor. He hits the warped tile hard enough that for a moment he wonders if he broke something. 

He rolls over onto his back and tries to regain the breath that was knocked from him upon his impact. It’s not an easy task as he also has to push back the waves of nausea that threaten to spill out of him. Dizziness still darts across his vision, so he closes his eyes in an attempt to keep himself steady, even as he lies on the floor. Savior of the Commonwealth, lying on his own floor, too dizzy and weak to get up. The thought startles a laugh out of him, which in turn forces a groan of pain through his lips. He has no idea how long Deacon has been gone, but he really hopes the man comes back soon. 

Just as he’s considering opening his eyes and trying to stand, voices drift into his hearing range. 

“He’s right in here and he doesn’t look too good.” Deacon. 

“Worse than yesterday?” Maccready. 

“Much. You’ll see.” 

Footsteps sound across the floorboards and the reverberations irritate Nate’s already pounding headache. The deathclaw has a friend, or maybe from the way it rampages- an enemy. He considers trying to speak up, alert them that he’s on the ground, but just the idea of talking makes his throat hurt. 

“Oh fu-, boss?” A touch to his arm. “Nate?” He peeks open his eyes and sees Maccready kneeling next to him on the floor. Nate tries to smile, but he’s fully aware that it probably comes off as more of a grimace. “You don’t look so hot. I thought Deacon was over exaggerating but this isn’t good.” Maccready leans forwards and presses a hand to Nate’s forehead. “You’re burning up.” The sniper turns to Deacon. “Help me get him to the bed.” 

Deacon moves right away, clearly more comfortable taking orders than being in charge. Together they manage to get Nate into an upright position, but before they can attempt to lift him onto his feet Nate yanks his arm back from his friends and throws it over his mouth. He does not want to puke on them or himself. He forces uneven and choppy breaths through his mostly stuffy nose, trying to keep his stomach from upheaving what little he has in it all over the floor. 

A hand begins to rub small circles over his back but he’s too sick to try and place who it belongs to, but if he had to guess it’s probably Maccready’s. The hand is warm and his shivering and nausea subsides as he focuses on the light touch. Too soon the comforting motions stop and Nate takes in a deep breath as he’s lifted off the ground. He keeps his eyes closed the whole way back to his room and doesn’t open them again until he’s in bed and someone is tucking the covers into his side. He’s surprised to see that it’s Deacon. 

Maccready drops down next to him and uses one hand to lift Nate’s head so that he can use the other to pour water into Nate’s mouth. The liquid is cool and satisfying as it runs down his throat, soothing the dryness and pain. Before long the can is empty and nausea is rolling around in Nate’s stomach again. He takes steadying breaths as Maccready disposes of the empty can. His two friends look at each other and something in each of their faces betrays that they’re worried, more than they had been yesterday. They whisper between them for a few seconds, too quietly for Nate to hear what they’re saying. 

After a few seconds Maccready turns to him. “We’re going to send word with a Minutemen patrol to Diamond City to get Curie…” He trails off and glances over at Deacon before turning back to him, “we’re gonna stay here and keep an eye on you.” 

Nate nods his understanding before closing his eyes and letting sleep consume him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that was chapter one! Please let me know if you guys want to see more of this, if no one does then I probably won't continue. It's looking to be around 8-10 chapters, but I won't waste my time if no one is interested.
> 
> You can show your support with a comment, kudos are great but comments are the heart and soul of my writing fire. Also, if you want, you can stop by my [Tumblr](randomwordsandstormydays.tumblr.com).


	2. Saving Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Curie arrives and tells Deacon and Maccready exactly what they're up against. Then they start their adventure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter two, thank you to everyone who left a kudo or comment, they're the only reason I keep writing this thing.

Curie arrives nearly two days later. In that time Nate has gotten worse, not so much that Maccready and Deacon worry for his life, but enough that the two of them feel relief as soon as they spot the synth appear over the bridge. 

Maccready heads down to meet her while Deacon runs to gather supplies. The sniper carefully lists out details of Nate’s sickness, when the symptoms started and how they appeared. Curie asks about medicines and treatment and finds herself worried when Maccready says that Nate hasn’t been keeping anything but a little water down since the day prior. He also mentions Nate’s suggestion of the common cold or flu. 

“He may be correct in thinking ‘zat it is ‘ze flu. However, my worry is ‘zat it has progressed into ‘zomething worse now.” 

Curie follows Maccready into Nate’s house and into the back bedroom. Nate is asleep on the bed and a thin sheen of sweat is present on his forehead even as he shivers from under the covers. Deacon appears in the doorway as Curie begins to lay out her supplies. 

“I wasn’t sure what you would need. So, I brought what I could find.” Deacon makes his way over to the synth who readily takes the supplies from him. “I brought a few towels, water, and some fruit from the garden.” 

“We’ve been putting a cold washcloth on his head, he seems to like that, and trying to get him to eat and drink.” 

“Thank you, both. ‘Zese will be useful.” The two men look over the supplies she has spread out on the table, not at all surprised when they don’t recognize everything. “Have you taken his temperature?” 

Both Deacon and Maccready shake their heads ‘no’ and she frowns. She turns back to her bag and pulls out an oddly shaped piece of plastic. Maccready almost misses the catch when she tosses it at him. “Place ‘zis under his tongue, wide part out, and ‘zen press the button. When it beeps tell me what it says.” 

He moves to follow her instructions right away, although he feels a little awkward placing the tool into Nate’s mouth since the other man is still asleep. He does it anyways. After a minute the device beeps and Maccready gently pulls it from Nate’s lips before turning it over to read the numbers. 

“103.6, is that bad?” 

Curie stops her organizing to look at him, her face shows clear concern. “After five minutes, do ‘zat again.” She doesn’t answer his question. 

Deacon watches the interaction and feels nervousness spread across his torso, he knows that that number is too high, but he doesn’t know what that means. He can see that the concern he feels is reflected all over Maccready’s face and posture, the younger man has paled since they entered the room and there’s a slight shake to his hands as he goes to re-take Nate’s temperature. 

They all stand with bated breath as the seconds tick by and Deacon feels his heart skip a beat when the tiny plastic tool beeps. Maccready’s eyes dart over to where Curie is standing but he doesn’t say a word. Eventually he works up the nerve to check the device. They all feel a mixture of disappointment and fear when Maccready repeats the same numbers from earlier. 

The confirmation of the temperature spurs Curie into motion. “His temperature is much too high, anything over 103 warrants concern. We should seek out ways to lower his body temperature.” She turns to Maccready who is gripping the thermometer in a tight fist, his fingers turning white from the strain. “Monsieur Maccready, please go to the bathroom and run a bath. Make sure the water isn’t too cold, we don’t want to send his body into shock. Think lukewarm, heat the water slightly if you have to.” 

Maccready doesn’t move to follow her instructions, instead he continues to stare at the device in his hands. Curie gets his attention with a snap of her fingers. “We do not have ‘ze time to waste.” It’s enough to snap him out of his own head and without a word Maccready dashes into the bathroom. 

Once Maccready is gone she turns to Deacon. “Monsieur Deacon, it would be beneficial if we could change ‘ze dressings and Monsieur Nate’s clothing. It would not be right to re-dress him in filthy clothing. Would you kindly wake him so ‘zat I can clean up the area and take him to the bath?” 

Deacon nods his head and moves over next to Nate. He reaches over with one hand to nudge gently at his partner’s shoulder. Nate stirs but don’t wake so he tries again, this time with a firmer touch. Nate’s eyes flutter open and he comes into awareness with a groan. 

“Morning, sleeping beauty. Time for your spa day.” The words and tone are light but inside Deacon feels worry curling around inside of him. Nate goes to croak out a response but Deacon doesn’t let him. He reaches around Nate’s shoulders and helps him into a sitting position. “No need to say a word, the wonder team is gonna get you taken care of. Just gotta get you standing and into the bathroom, think you can do that, partner?” Nate nods his head and slowly swings his legs out from under the covers. 

Deacon can hear Curie speaking lightly to Maccready in the other room, but his focus is on making sure Nate doesn’t lose his balance and brain himself of a stray piece of furniture. Working as a team both men manage to slowly make their way around the bed and into the adjacent room. The tub is full of water and Maccready is leaning nervously against the far wall. Curie gives them instructions to strip Nate and get him into the water before leaving the room to do god knows what. 

Nate collapses on the edge of the tub as soon as Deacon moves to help him sit, and his tight grip on Nate’s waist is the only thing that keeps them both from tipping into the tub. He helps Nate lean up against the wall, making sure that if he lets go no one will fall over. 

The waves of emotions in the room are overwhelming, so Deacon starts to talk as he helps Nate get his clothing off. “Now, we don’t have any cucumbers so this won’t be a five star experience, but I think we can figure something out.” He speaks lowly, not wanting to irritate any headache Nate might have. Words continue to spill out as he kneels down and begins to peel off Nate’s socks. “But I bet Maccready here can give a mean massage. I mean, c’mon, have you seen the way he cleans his rifle? Working the oil into it? I bet he gives the best back rubs.” Nate lets out what might be a chuckle and Deacon smiles. He peeks over at Maccready who is currently studying the floor and waits until the young sniper meets his eye before tilting his head towards their sick companion. “Come help me with the rest.” 

Maccready moves right away, helping Deacon onto his feet before reaching out to get a grip on Nate’s arm. The three of them begin to work Nate’s shirt up and over his head. It’s not an easy task, with most of Nate’s body acting as dead weight, but they eventually manage to get Nate stripped from the waist up. Nate immediately starts to shiver, goosebumps pop up across exposed skin and Nate’s teeth begin to chatter. 

Now comes the hard part, pants. 

An air of awkward tension has risen in the room, most of it stemming from Maccready. You’d have to be blind or ignorant to miss the blinding crush that the young sniper has on their fearless leader. Deacon is pretty sure that this isn’t how Maccready saw himself getting the bosses’ pants off. A twinge of jealously sparks in Deacon’s chest but he brushes it aside. “Lift him.” If the sentence comes out a little harsh no one mentions it. 

Deacon waits as Maccready gets a solid grip on Nate’s body and helps him onto his feet. Nate is a good four inches taller and 50 pounds heavier but the sniper is stronger that he looks and shows no sign of struggling. 

“Once the massage is over we have a wonderful three course meal planned.” Deacon keeps up the happy and carefree façade as he quickly pops open the button on Nate’s jeans and drags the zipper down. “Your choice of ragstag stew and dandelion wine or brahman steak and whiskey.” He hooks two fingers on either side of Nate’s waistband and tugs gently, the material slides easily and he makes sure to pull lightly enough not to leave Nate standing there complete naked. 

Maccready leans Nate back against his chest so that Deacon has enough room to kneel down and pull the pants over his feet. “For dessert we’ve got fruit salad and some sweet rolls. But if you’re feeling a little extra today we’ve got some fancy lad’s too.” That earns him another strained chuckle. As he stands Deacon notices the faint red across Maccready’s cheeks. Poor kid, he’s got it bad. 

They make the silent decision to keep Nate’s underwear on and then Deacon takes a spot on Nate’s other side and helps lift his legs into the water. The liquid isn’t warm, but it’s also not freezing. Deacon trusts Curie’s judgement, she wouldn’t do anything to put Nate in danger, so they lower him into the water gently. Nate’s shivering only increases as he sinks slowly down, but he doesn’t complain. Nate closes his eyes as soon as he’s fully seated and almost immediately he’s back asleep. 

Just as Deacon goes to speak to Maccready, Curie appears in the doorway. She’s holding a vial and a needle. “I need to draw ‘zome blood, to test and see what this might be, will one of you hold an arm steady?” 

Maccready nods and slides down onto his knees next to the tub. He gently reaches in and pulls one of Nate’s arms from the water. Deacon crosses his arm and leans against the wall, knowing that his help isn’t needed at the current moment. Curie dries Nate’s elbow and then sets to work on preparing his veins for the blood draw. 

“Curie, what do you think is going on?” Maccready’s question is quiet, likely so that he doesn’t disturb Nate. However, the question is a loaded one and Deacon can see the poor girl struggle with the right words. 

“I do not like to guess, and I will have a better guess once I run ‘zeese tests, but…” She trails off for a second to concentrate on sliding the needle into Nate’s elbow. The blood begins to flows down a tube into a glass vial. “‘Zere’s an old story about a time traveler. He goes back in time and everyone gets sick and dies, and when he goes forward in time he gets sick and dies.” 

She pops the vial off the end of the tube and quickly replaces it with another one. “The way ‘zat illness works is that the diseases mutate over time, ‘zat’s why we used to do yearly flu shots, to try and get ahead of the disease. Nate’s immune system hasn’t had time to develop defenses against the bacteria from this century. I’m honestly surprised ‘zat this didn’t happen sooner.” The second vial fills and she places the last one on the tube. “My best guess is pneumonia, and these blood samples will allow me to confirm or deny that theory.” 

Once the last vial is full she removes the needle from Nate’s arm and uses a wrap to cover the small prick before sliding Nate’s arm into the water and standing up. 

“If it is that?” Maccready voices the question Deacon has in his head. 

The synth avoids their stares. “If it is pneumonia, the only chance Nate has of overcoming this is if we find antibiotics. Normally he would be fine, the body is amazing and usually only the very young, very old, or already sick die from ‘zis kind of thing. The problem is ‘zat diseases have had two centuries to develop and they’re hitting him hard. ‘Zey aren’t very common, but if I recall correctly Vault 81 should have the necessary supplies.” 

Deacon perks at that. “Wanderer’s helped them out before, it should be easy to get them to give us some meds.” He pushes off the wall. “Mac and I can head down there and get them. Shouldn’t take more than a day.” 

Maccready has already pushed himself onto his feet by the time Deacon stops talking. “Yeah, they were super grateful, gave Nate a room and everything.” 

Curie smiles at them. “Yes, yes, I recall very well when Monsieur Nate came to the vault. ‘Zat was the day we met. I think that ‘zey would be very willing to help out.” 

The mood in the room shifts from one of depressive fear into one of hopeful optimism. The change is nearly palpable. Maccready’s tense shoulder begin to unwind as he leans back against the wall and Curie’s almost constant smile is back on her face. 

She turns to them before leaving the bathroom. “Please keep an eye on him, he shouldn’t be in there for more than 30 minutes. Once that time is up please redress him and get him back to bed. I have already changed the sheets. By 'zat time my tests should be complete.” 

20 minutes later Deacon and Maccready work together to get Nate dried and redressed and put to bed. Nate’s skin is no longer on fire and on a whim Maccready tests his temperature. 

“102.3, that’s not much lower.” He says to Deacon. 

“We should let Curie know.” 

They find her in the living room bent over a microscope. They wait until she’s no longer studying the samples to announce their presence in the room. She startles anyways but relaxes when she sees the two of them. The smile on her face doesn’t last long. “It’s pneumonia, we’re going to need ‘zat medication. You should leave as quickly as possible.” 

They’re on the road to the vault in less than an hour. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, please let me know if you guys want to see more, without your support this fic won't get finished.


	3. How I Met You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How exactly did Deacon and Maccready come to know each other?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so not a lot of people left comments on the last chapter but this one was already written so I figured I'd post it anyways. For those of you that are actually interested, enjoy.

The first time Deacon meets Maccready he’s pulling recon for the Railroad, dressed as a Gunner. The bar they have set up inside of Quincy is full enough for him to slide under the radar but clear enough that no one is bumping into him and potentially causing a fight. The perfect level of cover, that is until he has his drink, which he has no actual intentions of drinking, and he realizes that there aren’t any open spots at the bar.

He’s learned that the bar is the best place to spy on folks. When people can’t see his face they’re less likely to notice that he’s there, less likely to start a conversation, less likely to see him listening in. Without that level of protection he has to go to plan b, and that requires a mark. With a new goal in mind he begins to scan the crowd, looking for a table that has few enough people that he can slide in without looking suspicious. He sees one at the back of the room, near a window. There’s a lone man sitting at a table for six.

Clearly the man isn’t waiting for anyone, and doesn’t have that annoying ‘please sit with me I’m desperate for company’ look that Deacon would want to avoid. Plus, when he looks up to scan the crowd, Deacon can’t help but notice that he’s a very attractive man. Might as well get a better look at him while he waits.

Deacon makes his way through the crowd as quickly but as stealthily as he can. When he approaches the table the man seated there looks up from under the brim of his hat and sneers, “table’s taken”.

Deacon fakes a surprised look. “Wait, so, you can see them too?” The questions sends a confused look across the Gunner’s face -which he refuses to call cute. Instead of responding the man merely grunts and turns away from him. Good enough.

The chair creates an awful grinding noise as Deacon pulls it out from the table, which draws the attention of a few other bar patrons. He doesn’t like the glances he’s getting so he plops into the chair and avoids eye contact. He fakes a sip of his whiskey and turns so he can see the area better. He scans the crowd, looking for his mark: a female Gunner Sergeant by the name of Blackmore. Easily identifiable by her fire-red hair, missing left arm, and signature dark blue bandana, the only Gunner he’s heard of that doesn’t wear a green one. Currently, she’s nowhere to be found, but his sources say she’s here nearly every night, and he trusts his sources.

It’s less than 10 minutes later that Blackmore enters, dressed down in off-duty fatigues, but still obviously her. He must react to her entering because the Gunner across from his snorts into his beer and glances up at him. “Don’t even try it, she doesn’t go home with new recruits.” For half a second Deacon wishes that he wasn’t wearing his shades so that he could roll his eyes at the young man.

“You speaking from experience?” The blush that crosses over the Gunner’s cheeks makes up for the glare he gets in return to his question.

“No, I don’t sleep with the people I work with.”

It takes everything in him to keep from blurting out ‘would I make a good exception’, instead he crosses his arms over his chest and leans back in his seat. Now isn’t the time to flirt with cute guys, he has to flirt with a scary Gunner Sergeant instead. Never mind the fact that the cute guy across from him is also a Gunner, at least he’s Deacon’s type. “Well that severely limits your bedroom options,” he squints to read the name scribbled across the dirty uniform, “Maccready, are you telling me you haven’t been laid since you joined?”

Maccready shoots him another glare before downing the rest of his beer. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I can get laid just fine.”

Deacon grins before diverting his attention to Blackmore, who must have gotten her drinks while he wasn’t watching, because she’s now making her way over to the only table that’s open. His and Maccready’s.

“Watch and learn, Mac, I’m gonna show you that a recruit status doesn’t matter if you’re good with your mouth.” A little flirting before the real games begin.

Before his mark makes it to the table Maccready lays a challenge down at his feet. “I’ll believe that you actually take her home if you bring me her bandana.”

That evening, Deacon takes Blackmore to bed, gets his information, and is gone before the sun rises. And if he swings by the bar on his way out of town to drop off a dark blue bandana to a very impressed Gunner, well, that doesn’t have to go in his report.

The next time Deacon meets Maccready they’re properly introduced by his most recent mark: the sole survivor. For the first time he’s disappointed instead of elated when someone doesn’t recognize him. Soon after their meeting he realizes why his presence isn’t really noticed: Maccready is halfway to in love with Nate, codename Wanderer. He hardly makes eye contact with Deacon before running off to trail behind Wanderer like some sort of pet and it makes something ugly twist inside of him.

So, Deacon does what he does best, he pushes at buttons and tugs on imaginary pigtails until Maccready gives him attention. It’s not the kind that Deacon wants, that would involve a lot less clothing, but at least the young ex-Gunner is looking at him and interacting. It’ll have to be enough.

Over the course of the next three months Deacon’s jabs develop into friendly teasing, and Maccready starts to warm up to him. He learns about the dead wife, the sick son, the loss and pain that the sniper had suffered at such a young age. Deacon puts in an effort to try and help Maccready become the person that he wants to be for his son. It’s actually on his suggestion that Maccready starts using the swear jar, and it’s Deacon’s pleasure to hold onto the caps for him. It’s around that time when Deacon realizes that maybe his attraction to the sniper isn’t just a sexual one. Upon that revelation Deacon makes attempts to distance himself, but Wanderer always asks them both on missions, and he can’t get away. Wanderer is too important to the Railroad’s mission for him to just bug out. So Deacon stays, and he pins over his new friend, and he wonders and imagines just what it would be like if Maccready turned some of his attention towards him.

The day they get the cure for Maccready’s son, Deacon gets a little taste.

He’s standing in the final room of the feral infested building with Wanderer and Maccready, desperately searching for the cure titled ‘Prevent’ and hoping against hope that Wanderer’s grenade didn’t turn it to dust. Maccready is slowly losing his nerve, although Deacon noticed that he’s been half a step away from total breakdown ever since the Med-Tek building came into view, and Wanderer looks more nervous than Deacon has ever seen him. He knows that the vault dweller will never forgive himself if he’s gone and destroyed his friend’s only chance to save his son.

Luckily for all of them Deacon finds it. It had fallen onto the floor and rolled right next to one of the many feral bodies that littered the small room. The red plastic goes nearly unseen until Deacon trips over a femur. He picks it up slowly, holding the vial more carefully than anything he’s ever held before, and feels his heart rate pick up when he turns the vial over and it reads ‘Prevent’ in neat black lettering.

“Is this it?” He tries to ask it casually, not wanting to betray his nerves.

Both men in the room turn to him and before anyone can say anything else Maccready rushes over to him. He slows enough to gently pry the medicine from Deacon’s fingers. “Prevent, yeah this… this is it.” He looks up to meet Deacon’s stare. “You found it.”

That sentence opens the floodgates and before Deacon can gently excuse himself from the room, so that he doesn’t have to look at Maccready’s blindingly happy look, the ex-Gunner flings his arms around him in a tight hug. His body reacts before his brain can register the embrace and his arms are coming up to encircle the shorter man’s waist.

“With this we’ve given Duncan a fighting chance.” The words are spoken through barely restrained tears but all Deacon’s traitorous brain can process is the feel of the sniper pressed tightly against him. The hug is over much too soon for Deacon’s liking but Maccready’s hands stay on his shoulders and his face remains close to Deacon’s own. Before Deacon can do something stupid like kiss him, Maccready speaks.

“Thank you,” he pulls away from the spy to turn towards Wanderer, and Deacon shivers at the loss of contact, “thank you both. God, I didn’t think I’d ever get this, I mean after I failed the first time I-” Maccready cuts himself off with a half sob and Wanderer moves in quickly to offer up a friendly shoulder to cry on. Better him than Deacon, who’s already trying to figure out how he can hold the sniper again.

Following them dropping off the cure with Daisy in Goodneighbor, Deacon finds an excuse to get some distance. A temporary reassignment to help set up a new safehouse, a replacement for the one they lost shortly before Wanderer joined them.

The distance should give him time to get over Maccready, but it doesn’t. It would be a lie to say that Deacon doesn’t try. More than once he lets a woman or man bring him home, but his heart isn’t in it, and he leaves them before he can do anything he’ll regret. Mostly he spends his time wondering when the assignment will be over and he can get back to Maccready.

He hears news of the vault dweller and his hired companion traveling into the Sea and preparing to assault the Institute, but he doesn’t come back until Wanderer has already disappeared into a blinding blue light.

Deacon knows he doesn’t have a chance with Maccready, has pretty much known that since the moment he saw him with Wanderer the first time. But a small part of him had always hoped, that maybe, just maybe, Maccready would see him, would realize that Wanderer doesn’t want him back. That maybe one day Maccready would look at him like he held up the world. That hope is crushed when he sees Maccready for the first time in months. He’s expecting a smile, a ‘welcome back’, maybe even a hug, but Deacon gets none of that. The young sniper is too distressed over Nate’s lack of communication while trapped inside of the Institute, that he doesn’t give Deacon more than a “he said he’d be back” before drinking himself to sleep.

His heart breaks just a little when Maccready comes back into himself the moment Wanderer returns. Some part of him hates the vault dweller, but when the man brings them the Institute’s destruction Deacon figures that his broken heart is worth all those synths lives.

Maccready finds him a few weeks after it’s all over, packing his bags.

“Where are you going?”

Deacon shrugs and continues to pack, a few cans of purified water, some food, his wig. “Railroad work.” He speaks simply, keeping his emotions locked as far away as he can.

“The Institute is gone, the Brotherhood too, aren’t you entitled to a break?” Yes, he is, but Deacon doesn’t want it.

Desdemona had given him an order, told him that Wanderer and he had earned themselves some time off, and to not come back to HQ for at least two weeks. At first, he had agreed, and had even taken Wanderer’s offer to stay in Sanctuary. Where he then spent the next 14 days staring at Maccready and trying not to lose his mind when all he got from the man was friendship. He should be okay with that, he should be happy with what little affection he can get, it’s more than he deserves, but he’s not okay with it. And he needs to go before he makes a mistake.

“Sorry Mac-Attack, gotta go. The synths still need my help.”

Maccready shuffles on his feet and looks down at the floor. “I don’t think you should go if you don’t have to.” Deacon pauses with his bag half zipped and Maccready shifts on his feet again. “I mean, Duncan is finally here and you’re one of the only people I trust to take care of him if Nate needs me on a mission or something.”

Even that reasoning is enough for Deacon’s heart to lodge up in his throat. Maccready trusts him. Trusts him with his son, all he has in this world. Against his better judgement he opens his bag.

“I guess that’s a good reason to stay a little longer.” He hopes that he can get over Maccready before he explodes. It’s two weeks after their conversation that Wanderer gets pneumonia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so, I've got the plan for the next couple of chapters worked out, but if I don't hear from y'all that you want to read it I don't see the point in putting in the work to write, review, and post, you know?
> 
> So, please, if you're at all interested in seeing this continue please let me know with a comment. Kudos are great, but they don't really tell me what you guys like and want to see.


	4. Ain't Killed Me Yet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deacon and Maccready and their trip to the vault. Cue some teasing and awkward moments.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who left a comment on the prior chapters! You guys are the reason this chapter is here today.

The trip to Vault 81 is mostly uneventful. With the Brotherhood gone, the Institute destroyed, and a steady stream of Minutemen patrols, the Commonwealth is the safest that it’s been in years. The pair runs into a small issue with some wild dogs, but a few quick shots from their respective weapons and the threat is gone nearly as quickly as it arises.

The lack of action means that both men are left with nothing but their thoughts and concerns. Deacon overcomes this by talking. The constant chatter grates at Maccready’s nerves but throughout his tentative friendship with the spy he’s learned that this is how Deacon copes: if he’s talking he can’t think. He lets Deacon drone on, muttering the occasional ‘okay’ or ‘yeah’ in response. Eventually, he runs out of patience.

“Enough, please, will you shut the hell up.” Deacon pauses, mouth half open, before closing his mouth and frowning slightly. He then turns to Maccready and holds out his hand. Maccready eyes the hand with annoyance. “Hell isn’t a swear.”

Deacon smirks and raises an eyebrow. “Would you want Duncan to say it?” Maccready shakes his head. “Then it’s a swear, pay up.”

Maccready grumbles under his breath as he fishes out a cap and drops it onto Deacon’s waiting palm. The spy pockets the cap and then turns back onto the road, however he doesn’t speak. The silence is welcoming, for all of two minutes. Maccready quickly realizes that the constant droning of the older man kept his thoughts just as occupied.

“Do you think Nate will be okay?” He asks, breaking the silence himself.

He sees Deacon glance at him and catches the barest hint of blue as their eyes meet. The spy shrugs before turning his focus back to the road. “Wanderer’s been through the wringer more times than I can count, I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

The words don’t soothe Maccready’s nerves in the slightest. “He looked really bad. I mean, even worse than when he fought that Courser.” The memory of his boss and friend covered in blood and limping across the road towards him sends a shiver down Maccready’s back. “He couldn’t even walk and could barely speak.” He looks out onto the empty road and then glances at his watch, two more hours to the vault.

“You sound real worried, Mac-Attack.” Deacon replies, casual and easy.

Maccready stops walking and turns to him. “Of course I’m friggin’ worried! Can’t you take anything seriously? Nate’s probably my best friend in the whole world and he’s sick enough that he can’t even stand with tipping over. I don’t know what’s wrong with him, I don’t know how to help.” Deacon stops walking and watches as the young man plows on. “He’s done so much for me, for the entire Commonwealth, I don’t know what I’d- we’d do if something happened to him.” He swallows once and drops his eyes down to study the rifle in his hands, then says quietly, as an afterthought, “I don’t want to lose him, too.”

It’s no secret what had happened to Maccready’s wife and the sickness that had nearly taken his son, and even if most people didn’t know Deacon certainly did. He had known the sniper’s history long before Nate stumbled out of Vault 111, he sympathized with that kind of loss. It was a similar situation, someone Maccready cared about, probably loved, was suffering and there was nothing he could do to stop it. But Maccready was right, Deacon can’t take anything seriously.

Deacon shrugs and continues to walk down the road, tossing a jest as he turns away, “sounds like you’ve got a crush.”

A faint blush makes its way across Maccready’s cheeks and over the bridge of his nose, but the embarrassment dissolves quickly into anger. The younger man jogs to catch up to his companion.

“What’s wrong with you? You really can’t be serious for one minute?” Deacon ignores him and keeps walking. “And now you’re ignoring me, like a child.”

Maccready reaches out with one hand to grab Deacon’s elbow. In the time it takes for his fingers to close around the joint he finds himself face down on the ground. Maccready’s arm is twisted tightly against his back and his face is shoved into the hard ground. Deacon’s knee is pressed firmly into his lower back and he can’t move. In the same amount of time it took for Maccready to slam onto the ground, Deacon jumps back and releases Maccready from his grasp. “Don’t grab me, man. Not a good idea.”

Maccready spits the dust and dirt out of his mouth before standing up. Tries not to think about how hot that was. He rolls his arm around in a circle and grimaces at the tightness there, and once his shoulder feels normal he eyes Deacon warily. The man in question seems to shuffle uncomfortably under Maccready’s stare. The silence rings out between them and with each passing moment Deacon fidgets more and more. Maccready takes pity on him.

“I don’t know where you learned how to do that, but it was pretty cool. Doesn’t mean you’re not an asshole for teasing me about Nate, though.” Maccready slaps a hand over his mouth as the curse registers in his ears and groans when Deacon holds out his hand again. He slides the hand over his mouth and rests it on his chin. “I’m gonna be capless by the time we make it back to Curie, aren’t I?”

Deacon grins and pockets the cap. “Probably. But hey, took your mind of Wanderer for a bit, didn’t I?”

The realization that Deacon had, in fact, distracted him from worrying about his friend was not a welcome one. “You played me.”

Deacon shrugs again and resumes his walk to the Vault. “That’s what I do.” The two are quiet for a moment more before a grin spreads over his face. “So, when are you gonna tell Nate you’re in love with him?”

Maccready sputters at the question, tries to deny it. “I’m not- I don’t, we’re not.” He pauses to gather his thoughts and realizes that Deacon’s too good a spy to not know. He sighs out and turns away from Deacon as he continues down the road. “How did you know?”

He misses the frown that tugs at Deacon’s lips at the admission. “I’ve known for a while. You’ve had it bad since nearly as long as I’ve known the two of you.”

Maccready feels embarrassment creep up the sides of his neck and spill across his cheeks, heating his skin. “It’s never been the right time to tell him.” He admits, kicking a rock from the road as he goes. “There was the whole thing with Duncan, and then Shaun, the Brotherhood, the Institute. He had too much on his plate.”

In truth Maccready had almost told Nate a hundred times how he felt, but he could never seem to find the words. Every time he worked up the nerve there was some type of interruption or emergency that took precedence over the conversation. And when there wasn’t anything going on, Mac couldn’t work up the courage to admit his feelings.

Ever since Lucy he has tried to lock that part of him away, keep people at arm's-length and focus on his son. But Nate, he’s so much more. Savior of the Commonwealth, General of the Minutemen, hell if it wasn’t for him Duncan probably wouldn’t have survived the illness that had come over him as a young child. How could he not love Nate? He was the kind of man to put everyone else’s needs before his own, he reminded Maccready of his late wife. They both just wanted to help people, to provide for others, to make the world somewhere where people wanted to live, where people could thrive. How was he supposed to live up to that, deserve that?

Besides, even though he was raised in a cave by other kids and young teens, Maccready isn’t stupid. He knows that Nate has never shown an outward interest towards him in any other way than purely companionship. Why should he be the one to risk his ego and pride? If Nate felt anything for him, he could say something, too. That was the idea, but that plan wasn’t going to work if Nate died. Seeing his best friend and the man he loved in such a state of undoing tugs at Maccready’s heart. If, no, when Nate recovers from this, Maccready is going to tell him how he feels, fear of rejection be damned.

Maccready looks over at Deacon from the corner of his eye. “I will, though, when Nate is better. I can’t keep it in anymore, not telling him how I feel about him is too much like lying. He deserves better than that.”

“Good for you, man.”

The conversation ends there. They two of them don’t talk much until they get to the vault, too lost in their own thoughts and emotions. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I appreciate all the comments that have been left so far. Without you guys telling me you’re interested nothing else will get done with this fic...
> 
> So, please, if you're at all interested in seeing this continue please let me know with a comment. Kudos are great, but they don’t inspire my motivation like a comment does.


	5. No Control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happens when the vault won't give them the medicine? What happens when Deacon finally loses his nerve?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: there are some sexual explicit scenes in this chapter, so please be wary if that kind of thing upsets you
> 
> \---
> 
> Also, a huge huge huge thank you to everyone who left comments on previous chapters, you guys are the reason why I keep writing this thing. I appreciate all your kind words and support..

“What do you mean ‘no’? You’re really not going to give us the antibiotics?” Maccready’s voice is loud as he speaks to the vault dwellers in front of him.

The Overseer drops her eyes to the ground and shrugs her shoulders. The rest of the crowd of people that have gathered around look uncomfortable, shuffling from foot to foot and refusing to actually look at Deacon or Maccready. Even the doctor, who had been so open and grateful to Nate is on the side of the vault. He steps forward.

“Nate did a lot for us, we won’t deny that, but we have a very limited supply of pre-war medications. Antibiotics aren’t like stimpacks, we don’t have the technology to make them.”

Maccready steps forward, like he might fight the doctor, so Deacon reaches out and sets a hand on his shoulder. A gentle ‘I’ve got this’. He thinks for a second that Maccready might not listen but the sniper moves back to where he was and sends him a pointed look.

He thinks that he can convince them to hand over the meds, he just needs to play the crowd.

“I wasn’t here when Nate did what he did here, but I guarantee that you cannot tell me that he didn’t have a positive impact on this vault.” People are looking at him, intensely, and he hates it, but they need those antibiotics. “Mac here tells me that Nate not only saved a young boy’s life from Mole Rat Disease, but he also did it by giving away the only vial of the cure that existed. You know what that means?” He scans people’s faces, looking for sympathizers. “He never got the cure, he still suffers from side effects of the disease that affect him every day.”

Deacon sees a few people respond to that, he hopes that Maccready’s face doesn’t give away that it’s a lie.

“Because he was sick already it only made it easier for him to catch pneumonia, what he has now. There’s a very high likelihood that if he didn’t catch Mole Rat Disease in this vault, he wouldn’t be sick right now.” More people look like they want to help, but still no one steps forward. “And that was just one thing. He also rescued a cat for a little girl, saved a young man from addiction, I mean, can anyone here honestly say that Nate didn’t do something for them?”

The vault dwellers look between themselves and begin to mutter, the Overseer appears to curl in on herself, but the doctor is unchanged.

“I understand that Nate did things for us, he saved Austin’s life and we’re not denying that he did wonderful things for this community. But I can’t risk it. What if one of us gets sick and then it’s passed on to others in the vault?” The doctor turns to the crowd. “Are we willing to risk the lives of everyone in the vault for the life of one man, who- let’s be honest…” he returns to facing Deacon and Maccready, “based on your account of his illness, might not make it anyways?”

Heads start to nod in agreement and Maccready tenses next to him. Deacon shifts slightly in front of him, mentally willing him to keep his mouth shut and not to do anything stupid. There’s nothing else Deacon can say, so he waits for the muttering to stop.

“If you’re not going to help us, can we at least use the room you gave Nate to rest and come up with a new plan?”

The Overseer nods and finally lifts her head to make eye contact with him. “Of course, it’s the first door on the right down the elevator.” She hesitates, eyes flicking to the doctor before darting back to them. “I’m sorry we can’t be more help, if there’s anything else you need please let me know.”

Deacon shakes his head and then pushes Maccready towards the elevator gently. “Thank you, we’ll keep that in mind.”

It takes them only a few minutes to make it to Nate’s room but Maccready is tense the whole time, glaring angrily at Deacon and huffing out sharp breathes as they walk. As soon as the door closes behind them he turns to Deacon.

“So what? That’s it? We just let Nate die?” He fumes, raising one hand to gesture around. “This whole place is a gold mine of food, medicine, and caps, and they can’t give us one bottle of antibiotics?” He pushes past Deacon, bumping into his shoulder roughly and causing the spy to stumble back. “After everything Nate did for these people. This is ridiculous.”

Deacon steadies himself before following Maccready further into the room. “Look, I know, but just let me talk to them some more. I think I can sway enough people to convince the doctor to hand over the antibiotics.”

Maccready whips around, eyes flashing with an angry fire. “And how long will that take, Deacon? A few hours or a couple days?” when Deacon doesn’t answer Maccready crosses his arms over his chest. “That’s what I thought. We should just steal it.”

Deacon feels anger start to creep across his chest. “No. If we get caught it’s all over, we won’t make it out of here, let alone back to get Wanderer the antibiotics.”

The argument only picks up from there. The two go back and forth and around in circles, the only thing it manages to accomplish is to piss Deacon off even more. Normally he can maintain his cool, but Maccready won’t listen to reason, keeps trying to push past him to find the medical center, and won’t keep his voice down to keep their conversation private. It’s bad enough that the younger man won’t listen to him, but it’s only made worse when Maccready starts to drone on about repaying Nate for everything that he’s done, trying to do right by him. He says he wishes that Nate were there, because, “if Nate were here he would have already gotten the cure and gotten out”.

That’s more than can Deacon can take, he’s heard enough. “Are you serious Maccready? Nate isn’t a fucking god. He’s just as human as the rest of us are.”

“Am I serious? That’s rich, coming from you. Yes, I’m serious, you’ve been there for all the impossible things that he’s done. How many other people have you met that could do even half of that stuff? Nate’s probably the greatest man I’ve ever known and instead of helping him you’re being a complete fucking dick.”

Deacon’s hands twitch at his sides, an automatic reaction to the curse that came out of the sniper’s mouth. Now isn’t the time for proper parenting techniques, however. He takes a step closer to the younger man, caging him against the wall. He drops his voice low. “You know what I think Maccready? I don’t think you actually love Nate. I think you’re blinded by the things that he’s done. It’s admiration, a little hero worship, but not love.” Deacon takes another step closer, there’s nowhere for Maccready to escape to. The argument is taking a turn away from the medication, but neither of them seems to notice.

“You’ve got him propped up on this pedestal because he saved your son, but did you forget? I was there too, fuck- I saved Nate’s life from a feral that day.” Deacon leans in, only a few inches remain between the two of them. “But you don’t see me, you only see, precious fucking Nate with his perfect fucking face and his perfect fucking morals and values. You’re so fucking blinded by him you can’t see what’s right in front of you.”

The almost-confession is sending all sorts of alarms off inside of Deacon’s head. But he’s so tired. Tired of watching Maccready fall head over heels for Nate, following him around like he was the poster child for the perfect man. Tired of hiding his feelings every time he saw Maccready blush at one of Nate’s off handed compliments. Tired of not being seen, not being noticed. He wants Maccready to see him, notice him, and acknowledge that he exists as more than just a Railroad member.

He wants Maccready to kiss him.

Maccready is breathing heavy and Deacon isn’t sure if it’s anger or his proximity. “And then you talk down on yourself, how you don’t deserve Nate, how you’re so sure he doesn’t notice you, doesn’t feel the same. Fuck, Mac, have you looked in a mirror lately? How could he not notice you?”

“Are you… are you hitting on me?” Maccready’s voice comes out a little shaky and it sends a shiver over Deacon’s body. When was the last time he had been this close to someone? He leans back a bit, giving them both some room to breathe. The question causes the anger and annoyance to slide off of him, he really is just that oblivious.

“Only for like the last year.” The truth rips out of him at the tail end of an absurd laugh. “God, Mac you’re so fucking dense sometimes.”

Realization flashes behind Maccready’s eyes and his back straightens, pulling him to his full height. “Wait, so, all those jokes about my hands and my ass and all that? Those weren’t jokes?” Deacon nods his head. “And that time we were playing two lies and a truth, and you said you wanted to kiss me, that was the truth?” Another nod. “Why haven’t you said anything?”

That causes a laugh to stumble out of Deacon’s mouth and he pulls away from Maccready, putting more distance between them. “With the way you look at Wanderer, Nate- fuck, the way you talk about him? I knew I didn’t have a chance. Honestly, I don’t deserve a chance.” Deacon clamps his jaw shut before he can say something else that’s stupidly honest.

Maccready is still pressed back against the wall, looking like someone has just told him that, no, actually, two plus two doesn’t equal four. Deacon, not for the first time, wishes he knew what the other man was thinking.

“I’m not stupid, you know.” That isn’t what Deacon is expecting Maccready to say, at all. “I know that Nate, he probably doesn’t, you know, like me back. But… I can’t just, give up on him.”

An idea begins to formulate inside Deacon’s head, maybe Maccready just needs to see what he could have with him. Maccready is still babbling on about being unsure but also sure at the same time as Deacon makes his way back over to him. The sniper is too focused on the floor to notice his approach, and by the time he does Deacon is already in motion. With one hand he reaches up to yank Maccready’s hat off his head and toss it aside and with the other he grips lightly at the younger man’s hip, applying just enough pressure to keep him pinned against the wall. Maccready’s hands fly up and land on Deacon’s shoulders, not pushing him away, but giving him leverage if he decides he needs it.

“Deacon, what are you-”

“Tell me if you want me to stop.”

Maccready sucks in a sharp breath. “What are you doing?”

“Tell me to stop, and I will.” Deacon refuses to do anything that Maccready doesn’t want, but that doesn’t mean he’s not going to try and convince him that Deacon is what he wants. Maccready still kinda looks confused but Deacon’s tired of waiting. He leans in slowly, trying to give Mac the time to react, and when nothing stops him he gently slots their lips together.

Deacon’s thoughts short-circuit for half a second as the realization that not only is he kissing Maccready, but the man hadn’t stopped him, makes its way through his brain. It’s not even the most intense of kisses, really it’s quite chaste. That’s not the reason that it sends a shockwave down Deacon’s spine that settles in his groin. No, the reason Deacon reacts like he hasn’t been kissed in years is because he’s overwhelmed with thoughts of “finally”. After so long of standing on the sidelines wondering what Maccready would feel like, act like, sound like, taste like, now he knows.

Then Maccready tightens his hand in Deacon’s shirt, tugs him in closer, and deepens the kiss. Two things happen then, Maccready thigh creates a delicious friction right against Deacon’s growing erection which causes a gasp to tear from both of them, separating their mouths, and a loud knocking sounds at the door to the room. Deacon doesn’t want to let go, he’s finally got Maccready exactly where he wants him, and by the feel of the sniper’s arousal, which is hard and pressing against his hip, Maccready doesn’t want to move either.

Maccready speaks. “Maybe they’ll go away.” His voice is rougher than normal and instead of responding Deacon thinks of something better to do with his mouth. He tightens his grip on Maccready’s hip and pulls him even closer, grinding into the younger man and eliciting a low moan from the sniper.

The knocking sounds again and Maccready lets out a frustrated growl into Deacon’s mouth. Deacon releases his grip on Maccready and stalks over to the door. He slams the button to open it up and wipes at his mouth as the release switch flips.

Standing outside the door is a little boy with shockingly red hair and for a minute Deacon thinks that his kiss with Maccready must have knocked something loose because the kid looks just like him at age 12. “You guys are with Mr. Nate, right?”

Maccready peers around his shoulder and the kid perks up. “Mac! Here quick, take this.” The kid holds out a bottle, upon further inspection they see that it’s a bottle of antibiotics. “I heard the doctor talking, he said Nate is really sick but that we can’t afford to give away meds. Well, Nate saved my life, so I think he deserves those.”

Maccready smiles down at the kid. “Thanks Austin, we’ll make sure he gets these. Now go on, quick, before you get caught.” Austin throws up a thumbs up and then waves goodbye before dashing off down the hall.

Deacon pushes the door shut and then steps back. “We should leave before they notice it’s missing. They’ll assume we took it and won’t be happy.”

Maccready’s gaze drops to Deacon’s lips and a faint blush spreads across his cheeks when he tears his gaze away. “Yeah, you’re right. I’ll pack our bags.” As Maccready turns away Deacon has to stop himself from reaching for him. He’s selfish, but not enough to keep them from leaving right away. His feelings aren’t worth Wanderer’s life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So close, yet so far. I hope you guys enjoy the chapter today, if so please let me know with a comment and a kudo. Your support is what keeps me going <3


	6. Craving You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our boys start the journey home, but they run into some trouble on the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again super huge thanks to everyone that left a comment on the last chapter, and for the happy responses that I got.
> 
> \- - -
> 
> Side note: It's my birthday so if you feel like it I'd love so see some longer comments, they'd make my day super special.

Deacon keeps catching Maccready staring at him on the walk back. Quick glances at his hands and his mouth, often enough that Deacon isn’t sure how much more he can take. It took nearly everything he had in him to pull away in the vault and he would really like just be back in Sanctuary so they can drop off the medicine with Curie and then maybe find themselves a secluded area to finish what Deacon had started.

But he’s having a hard time holding himself back from having his way with Maccready right there in the street.

“I think you may have been right.” The sudden break in silence is enough to startle Deacon from his perversion and he jerks over to look at Maccready.

“You’ll have to be a little more specific, Mackers, I’m right about a lot of things.”

The sniper averts his gaze and Deacon catches a look of embarrassment across Maccready’s face. It takes him a moment to reply and when he does he doesn’t really say what Deacon is expecting.

“I think maybe I’m not in love with Nate, at least not in a romantic way.” Deacon doesn’t want to think about the feelings of hope that flutter in his chest at those words. It’s not something he likes to feel, but the emotion doesn’t go away. It continues to flutter inside of him as Maccready talks. “That thing you said, about confusing my respect for what he did for feelings or whatever. That makes a lot of sense.”

“Any specific reason why you came to that conclusion?” Deacon teases.

Maccready laughs at that and turns to him, meeting his eyes for a brief second before re-focusing on the road. “I can think of one.”

The silence that follows isn’t uncomfortable but Deacon finds that he still has a question, an important one. “What are you gonna do when we get back?” Deacon doesn’t dare let himself hope that Maccready will suddenly fall into his arms and profess his undying and unyielding love. He doesn’t even really want that. All he wants is a chance.

“I’m not sure, obviously I won’t tell Nate how I feel, since I don’t actually feel that?” He once more glances over at Deacon and goes to continue speaking.

Something must catch his eye, however, because his face shifts from one of vulnerability and confusion to one of complete focus and tactics. A face Deacon has only seen him use in combat. Before he can turn around to see the danger, Maccready lifts his rifle and fires behind him and then reaches out to grab him by the arm and yanks him forward.

“Raiders!” The word hisses out from between Maccready’s teeth as the two off them sprint off towards the woods, the only place with any form of cover. Deacon can hear the firing of the pipe pistols from behind him, and finds himself dismayed when the sounds don’t get further away. His hands are calm as they find purchase on his pistol, but his heart is pounding almost as fast as his legs.

It’s clear that they can’t outrun their aggressors and Deacon begins to look for somewhere to hide, or at least somewhere that provides more cover than the occasional tree. Up ahead and to their right he spots what looks like a wooden structure. He calls out to get Maccready’s attention and they change course. As they burst through the tree line Deacon is relieved to see that the building looks both abandoned and structurally sound. The two men hurry inside and up to the second floor where they part ways. Maccready finds a spot on third floor and readies his sniper while Deacon uses a fallen wooden door as cover. He aims his pistol at the woods just as the raiders spill out.

The crack of the pistol in his hands is loud but comforting and the constant firing of the .308s from Maccready’s rifle bring him reassurance. Before long it’s clear that the raiders don’t really stand much of a chance, they drop quickly and after what is only a few minutes the fight is over. Deacon scans the bit of field in front of the house, looking for movement. When he sees none he stands and tilts his head up to look to the third floor.

“Think we’re good to go?”

Maccready’s eyes dart down to look at him before jumping up to scan across the area again. “I could have sworn there was another one… but I could be wrong.”

Deacon shrugs and holsters his pistol. “Not a lot of raiders have enough self-preservation to not come storming in. If they haven’t show themselves by now we’re probably good.” Maccready frowns at his sentence but doesn’t argue. “C’mon Mac, we have a package to deliver.”

Just as Maccready lowers his rifle and turns to head back down the stairs, Deacon sees a flash of reflectiveness in the corner of his eye. He’s too slow to raise his weapon in time and in the few seconds it takes for his brain to register the danger a loud shot rings out into the air. Pain immediately blossoms from the vicinity of his left arm and Deacon curses loudly. A return shot from Maccready’s weapon sounds but Deacon has already dropped back under his cover and begun to apply pressure to his fresh gunshot wound. Another shot, not from his companion, and the wooden door’s edge splinters out into the air, raining debris down onto Deacon’s head.

“Deacon are you okay?” The concern laced in Maccready’s voice does nothing to soothe Deacon’s situation, but for some reason it makes him feel a little better. No time to dwell on that now.

“Never been better, my friend,” he lies as he begins to tear strips of his own shirt to use as bandages, “but, I would appreciate it if you could take care of our marksman out there.”

“I’m trying.”

Another shot pierces the air, sending more chunks of wood into Deacon’s wig and over his body. His eyes scan over his surrounding quickly, trying to formulate a plan. He could try and rush inside the building, but that would expose him to whatever raider out there managed to have enough of their wits to survive. He could also stay where he is, but eventually the shooter will get lucky and hit him through the door. He could try and crawl inside, shred his dignity and roll himself into sturdier cover, but he doesn’t really want to do that.

A loud scream from behind him yanks him from his planning and he risks a glance over what is left of the door. From behind a tree a man stumbles, grasping at his torso, and falls to the ground. After a few seconds Deacon can see the rise and fall of the man’s chest and realizes that the raider isn’t dead, just incapacitated. He wonders if that was done on purpose. There’s no time to ponder that line of thinking, however, because just then Maccready appears in the doorway and rushes to his side. “It’s a clean shot, I wouldn’t worry. A stimpack and I’ll be good.” Deacon laughs. “It’s nothing but a flesh wound,” he tries to joke as Maccready grasps at his arm and twists his body to look at his injury.

“Just shut up and let me take a look.” The poking and prodding from Maccready’s fingers irritate his arms but Deacon keeps his mouth shut. “We should only use half a stim, they make you woozy and I don’t want to have to carry you back.”

“Oh come on now,” Deacon teases, “you saying you couldn’t lift me in those strong arms of yours?” Maccready only rolls his eyes and begins to prep the needle.

“Take of your shirt, it’s ruined and I need it for bandages.”

Deacon grins and maneuvers himself up and onto his knees and then leans in towards Maccready, steading himself on one of the sniper’s thighs with his good arm. “You know, you didn’t have to wait for me to get shot to get me out of my clothes.” The younger man blushes lightly and turns away from him, once more ignoring him. Deacon leans back, satisfied with his teasing.

When he doesn’t get anything else as a response Deacon complies with the order. It’s not easy to take off his shirt with only one arm, but he’d be a liar if he said he’d never had to do it before. The jostling of the cotton as it slips off of him causes a hiss of pain to escape from between his lips and he sees Maccready turn back to him, looking concerned.

The look of concern quickly melts into one of surprise, with a tint of embarrassment. He lets Maccready’s eyes scan over his exposed chest for a few seconds before dramatically clearing his throat. “My eyes are up here, baby.” Deacon isn’t sure if it’s the realization that he was caught staring, the pet name, or a mixture of both, but something causes the light tinge of red on Maccready’s face to deepen and spread across his ears and nose. The sniper’s hands fumble with Deacon’s shirt for a second before he tears it into equal strips and lays them on his thigh for later.

Before anything else can come out of Deacon’s mouth Maccready tugs him over and jabs one of their stims into his arm. Even though only half of it actually gets used the medication does its job and quicker than should be possible the red gash seals into a thin red line. It continues to bleed slowly and Maccready takes the strips of Deacon’s torn short to wrap the injury tightly.

“That should be good enough until we get back to Sanctuary.” Maccready glances up at Deacon, only hesitating for a second as his gaze slides over exposed skin. “How are you feeling?”

He feels like shit. His arm still hurts and the stimpack made him sick and dizzy, even if they didn’t use the entire thing, not to mention Maccready tore up one of his favorite shirts. “Like I said, never better.” Deacon smiles brightly and stands up. He then takes a second to look over at the man who shot him, the raider’s chest doesn’t move, finally dead.

Maccready is still on the ground by the time he turns around, digging in his bag. “Here, take this,” he lifts a tan shirt out towards Deacon who takes it and flips it over, no distinguishing features or writing, perfect, “you can’t go walking around shirtless.” The young man mutters something under his breath, sounding a lot like ‘even if I wouldn’t mind the view’ to Deacon’s oversensitive ears. He takes pity on his companion for a moment, and passes up the opportunity to tease him, in favor of sliding the shirt over his head.

It takes longer than it usually would, since he has to be wary of his injury, which leads to Deacon coming face-first, literally, with Maccready’s scent. The shirt smells just like the sniper and it takes Deacon a second to process the smell and shut down how it makes him feel. Gunpowder, oil, sweet sweat, and for some reason Deacon swears he can detect hubflowers. By the time it’s secured over his arms and chest his face is blank once more. It takes another minute or two for the smell to dissolve into a level where he doesn’t inhale it with every breath, and by that time they’re packed and on the move once again.

He’ll take it to his grave that he fakes a few sneezes as an excuse to smell the sleeve. Sue him, he’s in pretty deep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the chapter today! If you did please leave me a comment, I tend to go back and re-read them all when I'm feeling uninspired and demotivated, which means news comments are my favorite thing!
> 
> If you really enjoy my work you can check out my other fics or you can come say hi to me on my [Tumblr](randomwordsandstormydays.tumblr.com).


	7. Coming Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back in Sanctuary Maccready is tasked with explaining their new enemy status with Vault 81. Later that night Deacon receives a surprise visitor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: sexual explicit content this chapter. Don’t read the end if that stuff bugs you.  
> \- - -  
> Also!! Big thanks to everyone who left me birthday wishes, they made a super crappy day better.

Preston is waiting at the gate when they arrive, and Maccready imagines that look the of relief on his face when they show him the cure is the same look he and Deacon had the day that Curie showed up to help them. He gestures to Nate’s house and informs them that Curie hasn’t left in a few hours and that they can find her there. Maccready thanks him and then takes off for the building, medicine in hand and Deacon trailing behind. The house is lit up with a few candles and a lantern on the coffee table, but the house is still dark and quiet.

“Curie? You in here?” Maccready keeps his voice low so he doesn’t disturb Nate in case he’s sleeping. As he’s about to turn the corner and head down to the bedroom Curie pops out from the room.

“You’re back! Did you get ‘ze antibiotics?” Her voice is hopeful and Maccready is thankful that he doesn’t have to give her bad news.

“Yeah, we ran into some issues with the vault, but we still got them.” She takes them from him gently and begins to inspect the bottle. His heart starts to pound and an idea forms inside his head, something they hadn’t considered. What if it’s the wrong kind of antibiotic? Is there more than one type? The longer Curie inspects the bottle the more Maccready’s anxieties begin to build up inside of him. He’s not sure Nate will make it if they have to go back.

“Ah, yes, ‘zese are perfect.” She looks up from the container and smiles at them. “Why don’t you two wait here and I’ll give him his first dose?” His heart is still pounding as he takes a seat on the worn couch and he closes his eyes and drops his head into his hands to avoid showing his distress. It doesn’t work.

“You good there buddy? Lookin’ kind of sick.” He nods his head but doesn’t open his eyes or lift his head up yet. The couch shifts as Deacon slides over from the chair to sit next to him. “Do you need some water or something?” Maccready detects a hint of worry in the other man’s voice and it almost makes him smile.

“I’m okay,” he mutters into his palms, “just worried that what we brought wasn’t going to be the right thing.” He nearly jumps when a hand slides over his back and across his shoulders. He doesn’t mention it when Deacon starts to rub a soothing hand over him. The sensation calms him and before long his heart settles back into its normal rhythm and he feels back to himself. He sucks in a deep breath and then sits up, then finds himself disappointed when Deacon pulls his hand back and moves back to the chair.

“Wanderer will be fine, Mac, I promise.” The words sound genuine coming from the spy and Maccready finds himself shocked, but when he looks over to Deacon he’s facing away, not looking at him.

The silence rings out around them for only a moment before Curie finds her way back to them. “I managed to get Monsieur Nate to take a dose, but at ‘zis point ‘zere’s nothing we can do.” She leans against the side of the couch to look at them. “We have given him his best chance.” Her words do nothing to soothe Maccready, but he knows that worrying won’t do anything. He went through the waiting game with Duncan, he can do it again.

He’s about to ask her if there’s anything else they can help her with in the meantime when she jumps up. “You are injured!” Maccready turns to her questioningly before he realizes that she’s speaking to Deacon.

At some point on their walk back he must have aggravated his injury because the upper left arm of his shirt has blood on it. Deacon also looks confused for a second before Curie grabs his arm and begins to fret. A dozen questions are asked in about as many seconds and the concern over Deacon’s little injury startles a laugh out of them both.

“Curie, babe, really, I’m fine,” Deacon pries her fingers off of his arm and goes to stand, “I just need the second half of a stim and some rest. No need to worry.”

The synth frowns and tugs him back into the chair. “Nonsense, I need to make sure you’re not at risk for infection.” Deacon is helpless against Curie as she begins to remove his shirt to assess the damage.

Maccready snorts and slides off the couch. “I’m gonna go talk to Preston. Let him know that Vault 81 is probably going to have some problems with us.” He ignores Deacon’s cries for help and heads out the door, looking for the Minuteman Colonial. He finds him patrolling by the river.

“Preston! Hey, I gotta talk to you for a second.” Garvey waits for him to catch up but continues on his path once Maccready makes it.

“Maccready, I take it everything went well with the General?” Once he nods in agreement the tension in Preston’s shoulders seems to disappear, Maccready knew the man was worried but seeing the physical reaction to good new worries him a bit.

“Everything okay with you?” From under his hat Preston sighs and then shrugs.

“I’m worried about the General and the settlements, he has a lot of responsibilities and we’re struggling to maintain all the issues his absence has caused.” That statement annoys Maccready, it’s not like Nate is just on vacation, he’s sick. He expresses this to the other man who nods in understanding. “No, of course, I wasn’t trying to imply that, it just means that on top of worrying about him I also have to do his job. It’s… a lot.”

Maccready frowns a bit. “Well, I’m sorry about this, but I’m going to have to add one more thing to your plate.” Preston stops walking so that he can turn towards him. “We might have a small problem with Vault 81.”

It’s clear as Maccready talks about their dealings with the vault and the issues they ran into that Garvey is distressed by the information. Maccready isn’t a spy or some kind of intelligence gatherer like Deacon, but he can tell when a person doesn’t like the information they’re receiving. By the time he gets to explaining that a child stole the medicine for them Preston looks like he might have a heart attack. He spends the next ten minutes trying to convince him that, no, Vault 81 isn’t about to stand an attack or hunt down any of their caravans. Once that message gets through Garvey calms considerably, he’s clearly disappointed that they likely won’t be able to trade with the vault anymore, but he’s satisfied that at least their patrols aren’t in any more danger than they already are.

Maccready is all too happy to say his goodbyes and head back to the bunkhouse. He’s about to head into his room when a different idea worms its way into his mind. What if he stopped in to talk to Deacon, just to say hi of course?

\---

Deacon is just about to settle in with his book, after escaping Curie and her need to fix everyone, when a knock sounds at his door. He huffs out in annoyance before placing the hardback on his desk and rising. Who the hell could be looking for him? His bad mood drips away when he opens the door to see Maccready standing outside his room, looking nervous and unsure.

The doorframe creaks quietly as Deacon leans against it and crosses his arms. “To what do I owe the pleasure of a visit on this fine evening?” The sniper doesn’t seem to have a response and all he does is drop his eyes down to look over Deacon’s chest. Let the teasing begin. “Oh, you must be here for your shirt.” He pulls back from the wall and winds the material over his head until he’s holding it on his hands. Maccready startles when the shirt is tossed at him. “There’s a bit of blood on the arm, nothing a little soap can’t fix, though,” Deacon smirks before leaning in close to Maccready and dropping his voice low, “or are you here to finish what we started?”

It’s rare to see Maccready so flushed and nervous, Deacon isn’t sure that he’s ever seen him like this before, and he watched him turn down a very drunk, and very handsy, ghoul at the Third Rail. The sight of the blush creeping across Maccready’s face and down what Deacon can see of his chest is enough to send him back into the same headspace he had in the vault. He still hasn’t been given a verbal ‘okay’ yet, but he’s sure that the sniper is on the same page as him.

It’s not easy to pull away, but he’s not desperate enough to fuck Maccready in the bunkhouse hallway. His shoe squeaks as he twists on his heel in order to walk back to the bed, but even that doesn’t seem to be enough to get Maccready out of his staring. Without looking back Deacon drops onto his bed and flips around, sending a teasing wink towards his friend.

He raises one hand to slide down his chest, moving it lower until it hits the edge of his jeans. He’s half-hard already and the sight of Maccready eagerly drinking in his every movement is enough to make him just that much more uncomfortable. “Are you going to just stay and watch, or are you gonna join me?”

The blatant offer must be what Maccready needed because he nods quickly, walks into the room, closes the door much harder than he needed to, and locks it all in the time it takes Deacon to sit up. No longer facing Deacon, Maccready hesitates, just the smallest of movements of his hands at his sides, but Deacon can see it. Knows the kid is getting cold feet, he needs a reminder. Quietly Deacon slides off the bed and onto the floor, his shoes make no noise this time as he pads across the planks of wood beneath his feet.

When Maccready turns around Deacon doesn’t give him a second to think, he reaches out and pulls the other man into him, using one hand to tug on a hip and the other to cup the sniper’s face. Deacon guides their lips together, much more gently this time, and feels satisfaction when Maccready melts into it. The shirt he had been clutching in his hand falls to the floor and Deacon doesn’t bother to pick it up. He’s a bit too preoccupied to worry about a tidy room. He goes to relieve Maccready of his weapons and ammo belts when it suddenly clicks that the sniper isn’t wearing them, he came prepared for this.

Their kiss deepens as Deacon realizes this and steers them back and towards the bed. Maccready grasps at Deacon’s shoulders, trying to pull him in closer, and his hat falls onto the floor as one of Deacon’s hands slides up to pull on his hair. The slight pain that comes from that causes Maccready to gasp, giving Deacon the opportunity to prod at the sniper’s tongue with his own.

The edge of the bed hits Deacon’s legs and he swivels them around so that Maccready falls onto the mattress instead of him. Once the younger man stops bouncing Deacon swings one leg up and over his body in order to straddle him. The angle allows their hips to slot together more easily and they both let out similar noises of pleasure as they start to grind together. Suddenly, Deacon needs to hear more.

It pains him to pull away but the image he sees will forever be burned into his mind: Maccready, flushed, panting, with lips swollen from his own kissing, looking more turned on and desperate than Deacon could ever have imagined in his own fantasies. A tongue darts out from Maccready’s mouth to run over his lower lip and Deacon follows the motion like a hawk stalking its prey. “Like what you see?”

The confidence Maccready has suddenly gained surprises Deacon, but not enough to falter him. In response he leans down, and at the same time that he nips at that same lip he also uses his hand to grab at Maccready through his clothes. Maccready arches up into Deacon’s hand, chasing the friction there, and gasps, letting out another pleasure filled groan. The sounds goes straight to Deacon’s cock, and all he really wants now is to touch.

He slides off of Maccready’s body, keeping pressure in all the right places as he goes, before tugging the younger man to the edge of the bed and dropping down onto his knees. Deacon can practically see Maccready’s brain shut off at the realization of what is about to happen. Deacon looks up at him from above the tops of his sunglasses, blue meets blue and Maccready’s breath hitches. Deacon smirks as he begins to undo Maccready’s belt. “When I look at you, I always like what I see.”

Deacon sees Maccready go to respond, but before he can he rises up just enough to push him flat, making it easier for him to get his companion’s pants over his hips and onto the ground. Time to show Maccready that his mouth is good for a lot more than just lying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *winks* if you like what I’m putting out, let me know with a comment.


	8. Say No To This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maccready tries to figure out how he feels about Deacon. He's nearly figured it out when Nate says something that completely throws him off track.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everybody that left a comment on the last chapter, I treasure them all. Also, remember, if y'all want to see more chapters you gotta let me know, the more comments I see the more motivation I have to write and continue this.

The sound of a hammer on metal wakes Maccready from what he would argue was the best night of sleep he has gotten since… since he’s not even sure when. Before Duncan got sick? Before he lost Lucy? None of that matters. What matters is that the sound is loud enough and constant enough that he knows he won’t be going back to bed. He peeks open his eyes to take in his room. The dull walls, boring lamp, hardcover book, his hat.

Wait, book?

Maccready sits up, letting the blanket fall off his body, and swings his legs over to the edge of the bed. He picks up the book and turns it over. He doesn’t recognize the cover, nor does he recognize the weird cat poster hung up on the wall. All of a sudden his actions from the night before break free into his conscious thought. He’s not in his room, he’s in Deacon’s. A quick glances reveals that he’s alone.

His actions last night cause his cheeks to heat, a mixture of arousal and embarrassment. He knew something was going to happen when he showed up to Deacon’s room. In fact, he prepared just in case, left all his weapons, his ammo belts, his spare shirt, and his duster in his room. Still, the memory of Deacon, on his knees in front of him, makes him glance around, like someone might be in the room and reading his thoughts. God, and then the sounds Deacon had made when he had returned the favor, those were gonna ring in his ears for a long time. It’s hard to lie when someone has their mouth wrapped around your dick. That thought brings a smile onto his face.

He makes his way off the bed, gathering his clothes and pulling them on as he goes. Disappointment curls in his gut as he leaves and starts to head down to get breakfast. Where did Deacon go and why didn’t he stick around? If he planned on bugging out in the morning then why did he even invite Maccready to stay last night?

His mind is spinning in circles back and forth between ‘he likes me’ and ‘he likes me not’ when Curie says his name. It’s not easy to force his thoughts away from the Railroad agent, but it’s a little easier when the synth starts to talk about Nate.

“I just wanted to let you know that Monsieur Nate is doing better already. He still seems to be suffering from mild delusions due to his fever, but his temperature has lowered and his body is regaining its natural color.” She smiles as she talks, clearly happy that Nate is recovering. “I was wondering if you could stay with him for a bit. ‘Zere are some things I need to take care of.”

Maccready easily agrees to help, that should take his mind off Deacon. He heads into the house, eager to help, even as his mind spins with new possibilities and decisions. Everything looks normal, nothing out of place, which for some reason seems weird to him. How is it that his whole viewpoint can shift and yet the world looks the same? Same radiation burned floors, same worn couch, same boring walls and hallway. As he makes his way into Nate’s room he’s still confused to see that even Nate looks the same, makes him feel the same.

Even though Deacon made a good point, his heart still clenches to see Nate on the bed looking weak and tired. His heart still beats a tick faster when he looks at the man. His feelings haven’t gone away - he’s just identified them better.

He find himself disappointed to find Nate sleeping, his plans of using Nate as a distraction are gone, so, he takes a seat in the chair next to the bed and waits. As soon as he settles the familiar smell of the room and the lack of loud sounds seems to remind his body that he was rudely awakened this morning, and his eyes begin to flutter closed. He’s drifting off into sleep a few minutes later when Nate makes a groaning sound from the bed. Maccready doesn’t notice until Nate starts to talk.

“-always there for me.” He sits up from where he started to slump down and looks over at Nate, his eyes are open but cloudy, he must be delusional right now. “S’why I love you, RJ.” Maccready’s heart stops in his chest and goosebumps rise up over his skin. Nate is the only one who calls him that, and as far as he knows Nate doesn’t know anyone else by that name.

“What did you just say?” The words come out more forceful than he means them to, in fact, he hadn’t meant to say them out loud at all. Nate is aware enough to turn towards him and he brightens when he makes eye contact.

“I love you.” Nate’s sentence is slurred out, but he didn’t need to speak perfectly for his clarification to be understood. Nate giggles and tosses a hand over his face before frowning. “S’hot, too hot.” He begins to kick down the blankets off of his body before rolling onto his side, away from Maccready. The ex-Gunner hardly notices the action, his ears are ringing, his stomach is lodged in his throat, and his vision is blurring. He takes a few deep breathes to steady himself and his body begins to calm.

Nate loves him. Said it out loud to him, maybe in a delirious state, but he said it anyways. Nate loves him back. He’s just getting excited about the idea that Nate might wake and tell him that he loves him while conscious when he remembers Deacon. Deacon, who claims to feel something for Maccready, told him that he was attractive and that he cares. Maybe not in those exact words, but close.

He slumps down into the chair. Does he even like Deacon like that? Memories of the night before trickle into his mind as he ponders that question. There’s no denying that the sex was good, great even, but is that enough for Maccready to say he likes him as anything more than a friend or companion? He knows that he trusts Deacon, even if he is a liar, with both his life and Duncan’s, but he trusts others with that too. He’d leave Duncan in the care of Deacon, Nate, and…and… The realization that he wouldn’t leave his son with anyone but those two hits him like a power fist. They’re his top choices, anyone else it would have to be an emergency, like when he and Deacon went to Vault 81. Yes, he left Duncan with Preston and Sturges, but that was temporary, and he checked on him the second he had the time.

He considers other things. Would he feel sad if Deacon left and never came back? Yes. Could he imagine kissing him in an everyday setting? More than he’d like to admit. Does it make his heart flutter to think about being around him? It does now. Did he feel these things before Deacon kissed him? Some of them, yes. Would he feel this way about the spy if he had figured out he wasn’t actually in love with Nate on his own? Unsure, the real question is, would he have ever figured it out on his own? Probably not, if Nate had ever admitted his feelings.

But how he feels is only half the problem.

He sort of knows how Deacon feels, but what is he looking for? It’s easy to recall all the times when Deacon has made a comment about Maccready’s body, or skills with his hands, it’s less easy to think of a time when he had given a genuine compliment. If sex is all Deacon is looking for then he’ll have to look somewhere else.

Maccready rises from the chair and begins to pace. But there are moments, looking back on them, where Maccready thinks that Deacon might want more.

He thinks about the time when they found the cure for Duncan, how the spy had held him at Med-Tek and then gave him words of encouragement on the way to Goodneighbor. Or prior to that, when him and Nate had been laying out plans for their assault on the Mass Pike Interchange, Deacon had spoken adamantly about Maccready’s skills with a rifle and his trust that Mac would be at the right place at the right time to complete the attack. He reflects on all the little gifts that Deacon has left for Duncan, even if he denies it. Who else would have had the time or resources to collect all those things? Nate, of course, but he always gave Maccready the gifts so that he could present them to Duncan as his own. Even the swear jar was his idea, Deacon’s way of helping Maccready become the parent and father that he wants to be. Suddenly, Maccready sees what he’s been too blinded by Nate to notice, that Deacon cares about him, as more than a friend.

Mentally exhausted, Maccready drops down in the chair. He’s not sure about anything anymore. Maybe he’s looking too hard into Deacon and their interactions, trying to make it more than it actually is. On the other hand, Deacon is all about subterfuge and lying, he would actively try to keep Maccready from realizing how he feels about him, right? He doesn’t know. And it’s not like he can ask, a direct approach won’t work with the world’s biggest liar, there’s no guarantee he’d get a straight answer, let alone the truth.

A headache creeps into his skull and starts to rage. He raises one hand to rub at his temple, willing the pounding to settle. It doesn’t.

He has more than one issues though, now Nate has complicated things with his delusional confession. Less than a week ago that kind of admission from the vault dweller would have sent Maccready over the moon, all he’s wanted for the last year was some kind of hint that Nate felt the same way. Now, just as he’s realized that his feelings might not actually be a romantic kind of love, he’s finally gotten what he wanted.

Almost as if the man knows he’s being thought about, Nate grumbles and begins to stir from his position on the bed. Maccready turns, ready to help in any way.

“Curie?” Nate’s voice no longer sounds slurred and Maccready hopes that that means he’s actually conscious.

“No, boss, it’s just me. I’ll run and get her though.”

Just as he goes to stand Nate rolls over and stops him. “No, no, I feel alright actually. Still have a headache but I feel almost normal.” He sits up and stretches, popping something in his back as he does, it causes Maccready to flinch. When Nate finishes he looks over at him and frowns. “What’s wrong, RJ? You don’t look okay.”

Maccready is frozen. Does he tell Nate what he said? Does he keep it a secret? It’s just another choice and option that he doesn’t know what to do with. He needs to break everything down into something simpler. First thing first, he needs confirmation.

He takes a deep breath before he answers. “I’m fine, I just… well,” he hesitates and drops down to look at the floor, “you said some things while you were sick, and I wanted to know if it was actually true.” He can’t bring himself to look at Nate. What if he says it wasn’t true? Maccready would be embarrassed and have to admit that he thought he was in love with him at some point. And what if he says it is true? Does he forget about Deacon and try and be with Nate?

“What did I say?”

Too late to turn back. “You said that you love me.”

The silence that follows Maccready’s response is the most awkward silence that he’s ever experienced, how does someone respond to that?

Eventually, Nate speaks. “And you want to know if that’s true or just something I said while I was delusional?” He nods, not trusting his voice, and keeps his eyes focused on the floor. He doesn’t dare look up, doesn’t want to see Nate’s face.

Maccready isn’t expecting what happens next.

Nate leans forward on the bed, using his newfound balance, and then uses his hand to tilt Maccready’s face towards his own. Before he can react to their close proximity Nate closes the distance between them, stealing a kiss.

The sudden realization that Nate is kissing him shorts Maccready’s brain function for a few seconds. When his brain catches up to his actions he realizes two things. One, he’s kissing Nate back, and two, he forgot all about Deacon. Remembering the spy has Maccready pulling back. He nearly loses his balance as he throws himself backwards and over the arm of the chair and by the time he’s steady Nate is looking at him confused.

“Did I misunderstand,” he asks slowly, “I thought that you returned my feelings? I didn’t mean to push a boundary or anything.” Nate looks genuinely regretful that he may have kissed Maccready when that’s not what the sniper wanted to happen. He has to find some way to fix this. Fix everything.

“It’s not that I didn’t want you to kiss me,” the admission has him blushing, he’s been doing a lot of that lately, “I’ve just been sitting here for who knows how long trying to figure out how I feel.” He leans back against the wall for support. “I thought I felt the same but then-” he stops himself before he can say Deacon’s name, “-someone mentioned a few days ago that they were interested in me and it made me rethink a lot of my feelings.” He risks a glance at Nate and sees that he doesn’t appear to be angry or upset. “He said some things that made me realize that maybe I didn’t actually feel that way about you, too.”

Nate frowns at that. “What did he say?” The questions doesn’t appear to be accusatory, which relaxes Maccready considerably.

“He said that it wasn’t love, that it was admiration, and a little bit of hero worship. He said that I think I love you because you helped save Duncan, and took care of Winlock and Barnes, stuff like that.”

Nate almost smiles then before leaning back on the bed. “Why don’t you sit down? I promise not to kiss you again,” he smirks, “unless you want me to.”

The joke relieves the tension that has been steadily building inside the room and Maccready figures that it can’t hurt to sit. He turns the chair so that it’s facing the bed before sitting down in it. Once he’s fully seated their conversation continues.

“I don’t want you to feel pressured Mac, and I would never want you to force yourself into a relationship that you’re not 100% sure that you want to be in.” Maccready relaxes in the presence of those words, having Nate accept that he’s unsure relieves the pressure that he had been placing on himself. “If you feel comfortable you could walk me through what’s going on, maybe tell me a little about this mystery man.”

It takes a lot to keep Maccready from blurting out ‘it’s Deacon’, he sort of really wants to see how shocked Nate would be by that admission, but he manages to keep himself reigned in. Instead, he tells Nate most of what he can without exposing Deacon and their tentative relationship. He talks to him about how he felt about Nate and how he feels now. Explains vaguely the events that led up to the ‘mystery man’ revealing his own feelings. His story ends as he describes his most recent dilemma, does Deacon want a relationship, or does he just want someone to sleep with?

Nate only interrupts to ask clarifying questions, otherwise he listens closely. By the end of the story he looks thoughtful. “And you don’t know how you feel about either of us? And you don’t know how this other guy feels?” Maccready nods in agreement. “Well, why don’t you just ask him?”

Before Nate even finishes his question Maccready is already laughing. “I’m more likely to get some weird tall tale before I get an actual answer from him.”

He’s still laughing when Nate responds with, “Holy shit, is it Deacon?” Immediately Maccready sobers up from his giggling and stares at Nate with wide eyes and furrowed brows.

“How the hell-” He cuts himself off just as the curse escapes from him. Nate’s face shifts comically, his eyes widen and his mouth drops open before closing, then opening again. Neither of them seem to know what to say next. It’s Nate who once again breeches the silence.

“When did you two- I mean, how did this- what?”

Maccready knows exactly how Nate feels, he felt the same way in Vault 81 when he realized that Deacon was actually flirting with him. “I don’t know when he started to notice me, but all of this happened in the vault,” he grimaces slightly, “when we were getting your antibiotics.”

Nate starts to laugh once that mental image appears in his mind and his laughing triggers Maccready’s. It is kind of funny. He left Sanctuary knowing that he was in love with Nate, and vowing to his friend that he would tell him about his feelings when he was better. Then, by the time he actually made it back to Nate, he’s not sure he’s in love, and he’s started to feel things for someone else. By the time they recover they’ve both got tears in their eyes and their stomachs hurt. At the end of their fits Nate looks at him seriously.

“Listen, you’re not a dumb guy, RJ, so I’m not gonna talk to you like you are.” Nate sighs and purses his lips. “But you and I both know Deacon, he’s flighty and not always honest. And obviously, I’ve now got to compete with him so I’m not gonna sit here and talk nice about him.”

The discomfort inside of Maccready grows and he shuffles in the chair. “You can’t let him know that you know.”

That gets a smile out of Nate. “I promise I won’t tell him.” The smile softens into something that looks a lot like sympathy. “But you aren’t going to get a direct answer out of him on how he really feels. So, you need to analyze his actions both in the past and now. You need to figure out if he’s the kind of guy you want to be with, or if he’s just going to break your heart.”

“That’s easier said than done, boss. He’s so… closed off, to everyone. How am I supposed to know how he actually feels?”

Nate shrugs and leans back against the bedframe. “I don’t know, you know him better than anyone else at this point.” That doesn’t help Maccready at all. “What I do know is that you need to figure out how you really feel before you commit to anything, if you don’t you’ll only end up hurting yourself.”

“Thank you.” Maccready stands up. “I’m gonna go and figure this stuff out, but I appreciate you talking to me.”

“Anytime, on your way out would you get Curie? I’d like to talk to her.”

Maccready nods before making his way out of the house, not really sure if he’s more or less confused than when he walked in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feelings, feelings, surprise kiss, and then more feelings. Geez, is Maccready ever going to get out of his own head?
> 
> \---  
> If you're enjoying reading what I'm writing let me know with a kudo or a comment. You can also swing by my Tumblr, I've got the same username there as I do here.


	9. Say You Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deacon tries to figure out his next step but Maccready throws a wrench in his plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everybody that commented on the last chapter, you guys are awesome.

Deacon isn’t avoiding Maccready.

Okay, that’s a lie, he most definitely is avoiding him, and not at all because he finally got into his pants. Alright, maybe just a little, but honestly the real reason he’s holed up at his outpost at the top of the hill behind Vault 111 is because he thought that if he slept with him that he could get Maccready out of his system. That maybe, possibly, all his fucked up emotions about the man, who is probably his best friend, would dissipate once he finally got laid. He feels like an asshole, mostly because if it had worked then he opened up the perfect opportunity for Maccready to get hurt, but also because he knows that it didn’t work.

And that’s worse than just breaking his heart.

It’s worse because of the what ifs. Deacon has built his entire existence off of knowing everything about everyone, being able to anticipate their next move and be ten steps ahead. If he was just using Maccready, had only done the things that he had done in order to sleep with him, then he knows what would happen. Yes, Maccready would be hurt, crushed even, that Deacon would use him. He would rethink everything that Deacon said to him in Vault 81 and come to the conclusion that Deacon only said those things because he was horny. More likely than not he would run back to Nate, admit his feelings, and spent the rest of his life as the second half of the Commonwealth’s most badass couple. He would probably even try to stay friends with Deacon, but that wouldn’t last too long before the spy made his excuses to leave. Maybe he’d get a new name and face, maybe he’d leave the Commonwealth.

But now he’s trapped, because it wasn’t just sex to him, he really does care for Maccready. He won’t say love, that’s too much, but he cares more than a person in his positions should. Even with the Institute and Brotherhood reduced to ashes and rubble, there’s still a need for anonymity, he still needs to make sure that there’s no one too close who could get hurt by his enemies. Not to mention, he’s in uncharted territory. This situation has led to a hole in his intel, it’s left him grasping at straws for what to do next. He made one decision already by leaving before Maccready woke up, but that was more panic than carefully thought out planning.

There’s only a few things that could happen, and he focuses on those. To start, Maccready could be so mad at him for leaving that he decides Deacon isn’t worth the time or effort, which isn’t very likely, but still possible. Option 2, Maccready could tell him that, while he enjoyed the night before, he doesn’t feel that way about Deacon and that it can’t happen again. It would break his heart, but at least it would once more put the two at arm’s length from each other and keep Deacon from hurting them both. There’s also a very small possibility that Maccready could come to him, tell him that he wants to give them a chance, and Deacon is filled with equal parts of terror and hope when he thinks of that option.

On one hand, all he wants is an opportunity to show Maccready how much he cares about him and how much he values him. On the other hand, Deacon knows that he’s emotionally stunted in the feelings department, and that situation just screams ‘you’re going to fuck all this up’. He’s not sure he can handle a real relationship, it’s been years since he tried. There was always an excuse, “sorry can’t, I’m allergic to commitment” or “I’m not over my pet hamster dying, that kind of loss really messes with you”, or even better, “new face, who’s this”. In actuality it was, “I’m not over my wife, who’s death I blame on myself” and “I’m actually a bigoted murderer who doesn’t deserve simple kindness let alone love” and his personal favorite “I’ve change my face and name and story so many times that I’m not even sure who I am anymore”.

All this adds up to one conclusion: Deacon doesn’t know if he can be with Maccready without hurting them both in the end, but he really wants to try.

There’s only one final question: how does Maccready feel?

He’s just beginning to circle back into that thought process when the distinct sound of someone walking registers in his ears. Deacon tilts back in his chair far enough that he can peer over the top of his head and actually finds himself surprised to see Maccready picking his way through the woods towards him. He’s not proud of the way his blood pressure ticks up at the sight of the sniper, nor is he proud of what his shock causes him to do.

Instead of gently rocking the chair back onto its four legs, like he had planned, he loses balance and tips backwards. The ground comes up to meet him quicker than he can react and before he knows it he’s sprawled on the ground, sunglasses askew and dignity shredded. His only consolation is that his misfortune causes Maccready to laugh, an adorable sound that makes his heart clench.

Instead of scrambling onto his feet and trying to reclaim his pride he stays on the ground and tucks his arms behind his head before crossing his legs. “Welcome, Macaroni, so nice of you to join me on this fine morning,” he glances up to see the sun peeking through the leaves directly above him, “or afternoon, you never really know these days. Watches are almost never right and unless you’ve got one of those sick Pip-boys then you’re mostly out of luck.” As he speaks Maccready makes his way into the space next to him. He’s still smiling when he sits down on the ground next to Deacon.

“It’s not quite the afternoon, I don’t think.” The ex-Gunner looks up into the sky, giving Deacon a perfect view of the pale column of his throat, and the tiny, faint, almost-not-there mark at the base of his neck. A streak of possessiveness rushes through Deacon at the sight, he put that there, he marked Maccready. By the time he looks back Deacon has managed to get some semblance of a hold on himself.

No one speaks for a moment, Deacon doesn’t want to break the silence. He’s not delusional, Macready came here to talk about them, not make jokes about pre-war time telling options. His one saving grace in this situation is that Maccready is garbage when it comes to awkward conversations, which means he has a few moments before having to confront his own emotions.

“We should talk about last night, and what happened at the Vault.” Or not. Maccready is no longer smiling, he looks serious.

Deacon’s caught off-guard by the abruptness of the question and instead of being serious he deflects. “Not much to talk about, Mac-Daddy, we had fun, why do we have to discuss it?”

Maccready’s mouth tilts down at the edges, his eyes harden and he lets out an angry sigh. “Deacon, please for once in your life can we have a serious conversation?”

Uh oh, if Maccready is expecting him to be serious than this might be harder than he expected. “I haven’t been serious a day in my life.” Deacon shuffles in the grass so he can sit up. “Seriously. If I’m serious for more than ten minutes I break out into a rash.”

They’re close enough to each other that Deacon can see the twitch of Maccready’s cheek when he clenches his jaw. For a moment it looks like Maccready might even hit him, but instead the sniper stands up and throws up his arms in annoyance.

“You know, I should have expected this. I don’t know why I thought that this was going to be an easy conversation. Nate even told me it wouldn’t be.” Deacon’s nerves spike when he hears the vault dweller’s name, he didn’t know Nate was awake, let alone conscious and coherent enough to have a conversation. It takes him a second to actually process that sentence, but when he does Deacon hears the implication.

“Wait a minute,” Deacon pushes himself off the ground, “you told Nate about us?”

Maccready doesn’t even look guilty. “Not on purpose, he figured it out when I was… talking to him.” Suddenly, he looks very guilty, his eyes drop to the ground and his fingers twist the material of his duster. That combined with the hesitation in his words makes Deacon nervous.

“What happened?”

There’s a beat where neither of them move and Deacon doesn’t breathe.

“We kissed.” The air whooshes out of Deacon, much like it would if he had been socked in the gut.

Ah, so option 2 it is. He needs to leave before the heartbreak shows on his face. He fakes a cheery tone when he replies. “Well, good for you two,” he forces out a laugh that nearly convinces himself, “I mean, I was kinda hoping we could continue what we had,” add in some truth so he don’t suspect Deacon is faking, “some making out, or more. Seriously though, what’s a little blowjob between friends?” He’s already turning away, he needs some distance, maybe he’ll actually make that trip back to HQ now, tell Desdemona that he’s ready to come back to work.

“Deacon wait!” That’s a big ‘fuck no’ he doesn’t need Maccready’s sympathy right now. He moves down the hill much more quickly than he moved up it, and is nearly to the small bridge at the base when Maccready catches up. “Would you just fucking stop, Nate and I aren’t together.”

Well, that changes some things, doesn’t it?

The other man is breathing heavy, face flushed, mouth open in a pant, and it reminds Deacon way too much of the night before. He swallows hard to clear the mental image.

“Well, Mac-attack, you’re telling me you planted a big one on him and he doesn’t want a round two?” Deacon eagerly relishes the blush that his words cause.

“Will you shut up?” Alright, it seems as if Maccready is still not in a joking mood. “I just need to know one thing, okay? Just answer one question.” When Deacon doesn’t answer him right away he adds on a ‘please’.

Deacon rolls his eyes, even though he knows the other man can’t see it. “I can do that.”

“Was it just sex? I mean, do you actually like me? Do you want to be with me, for real?”

Maccready’s face is open, maybe a little hopeful, but at the edges Deacon can read nervousness. It’s present in the swipe of his tongue across his lower lip, the tilt of his eyebrows, and it’s clear in the way his eyes dart back in forth, like they can’t figure out what part of Deacon’s face to settle on.

He’s trying to think of something to say, a way to tell Maccready that yes, he does, in fact, have some very distinct feelings, that may or may not be love, without actually coming out and saying any of that, when the sniper’s face falls. He took too long to answer. The hurt on Maccready’s expression doesn’t last long and much too quickly it’s overshadowed by anger.

“You know what, I actually thought you liked me,” he laughs, a sound devious of any real humor, “I guess that’s my mistake. I came here to give you a chance, give us a chance, but I should have known you didn’t want anything more than someone to sleep with.” Wait, Maccready hadn’t come to reject him? “But I’m not going to let you use me, pretend like you care about me more than as a friend just to get into my pants.”

Deacon’s mind is running in overdrive trying to process everything that Maccready is saying to him.

“You know, I didn’t kiss Nate. He kissed me.” He grins, something ugly and twisted. “And that was after he told me he was in love with me.”

Wait, what? There’s no way he could have missed that. There’s no way, Deacon, master intelligence gather and overall pretty great Railroad Agent missed that Nate was in love with Maccready. There’s just no fucking way.

Or is there? He doesn’t have time to review all of what he knows about Nate because Maccready is still talking.

“Maybe I should just go back to him, because at least I know he isn’t just going to use me.”

He needs to say something that will fix all of this. His usual method of conversation isn’t going to work here. He needs to say something that Maccready isn’t expecting because, suddenly, Deacon realizes that he can’t lose him.

It’s the worst case scenario playing out at his feet. If Maccready goes to Nate now, Deacon won’t just lose him as a romantic partner, he’s likely to lose him as a friend too. Then it’s only a matter of time before he’s the ‘Bad Guy’ and he can’t come back to Sanctuary, can’t see Duncan anymore, can’t run missions with Wanderer. He’ll be back to how he was before: alone. And there’s no way to explain why he deflects, why he keeps pushing Maccready away, not without telling him everything.

So, there’s only one option left, he has to tell the truth.

“I used to be married.”

That’s clearly not what Maccready was expecting him to say because he pauses, mouth half open and eyebrows raised. “I’m sorry, what?”

Just that one, little, tiny truth has Deacon feeling like he might throw up. How is he supposed to say everything that he needs to say? He feels his face heat when his voice cracks as he continues. “Can we go somewhere more…private, to talk?” Maccready hesitates, clearly unsure. “No more lies, I swear, I just…there are things you need to know about me. Things that will explain everything,” Deacon takes a breath to calm himself, “don’t give up on me just yet. I’m only asking for one more chance.”

He sees the moment when Maccready relents to his pleading and it calms him, if only for a moment. “Fine, I know somewhere we can go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure writing a lot of feeling recently, hopefully y'all don't mind it too much.


	10. It's A Love Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deacon and Maccready finally have their talk, and Maccready makes a decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos to anyone who can find my reference (aka direct quote from) to one of the greatest tv shows ever hidden in my dialogue this chapter. The first person to find it and comment where it's from will get a 500 word fic from yours truly. Fallout 4 characters only, but whatever pairing you want, and whatever genre. Good luck!
> 
> EDIT: 8/8/19: Congrats to Jaeger Gipsy Danger (Carleen) for figuring it out! If you want to know the answer check below.

Maccready leads the two of them to the outpost that Nate had begun to build. It’s only a half mile from Sanctuary, but it’s far enough away that there’s no fear of being stumbled upon. They’re both completely silent as they walk and Maccready is grateful for that- it gives him time to start to process what Deacon had said.

Married. Deacon had been married.

For some reason he has trouble believing that sentence, but the pain he heard in Deacon’s voice sounded genuine. And that’s the only reason he decided to give Deacon a chance to explain himself, that and the way the spy had reacted to hearing about him and Nate’s kiss. That reaction alone clued Maccready in that Deacon must feel something, he literally tried to run away just from hearing about one kiss, people don’t react like that if they’re just in it for sex.

Now, as they approach the wooden structure he wonders exactly what it is that Deacon is going to tell him. Who was he married to? A man or a woman? How did they meet? How long were they together? He wonders what happened to Deacon’s partner- were they killed like Lucy? Did his work with the Railroad tear them apart? Or did his distance and lies become too much for them?

Maccready pushes open the door, leading them into an open room, sparsely decorated with two couches, three chairs, and a large table. Still unnervingly quiet, Deacon takes a seat on one of the chairs, which groans under his weight, but holds steady. It’s easier than it’s ever been before for Maccready to read Deacon and he can sense the man’s nervousness, his unease, so he takes a seat across from him on one of the couches, trying to give the spy the space he seems to need. Before he can say or do anything else Deacon removes his sunglasses and places them on the table between them. Maccready takes it as a gesture of good faith, Deacon’s way of starting the conversation open and honest.

Neither of them speak.

Deacon’s gaze is trained on the ground as Maccready stares, eagerly drinking in the other man’s features for the first time. Without the protective shades it’s very easy for the sniper to see the pain and discomfort on Deacon’s face. He takes in the faint laugh lines that appear at the corner of Deacon’s eyes, betraying his age a little, they make him more handsome. His mouth is turned down in a harsh grimace and that is enough to remind him why they’re there, but he doesn’t know what to say. Luckily, Deacon speaks.

“Her name was Barbara,”  His voice is so low Maccready almost misses what he says, “and I never thought I would love anyone as much as I loved her.”

A pressure begins to build in Maccready’s chest at that. Is he implying that he loves Maccready like that? That he loves him like he did his wife? Another thing that sticks out to him: the word ‘was’. Which means she’s dead.

He finds his voice, “tell me about her.”

For the first time since he took off his glasses, Deacon looks at him. The blue coloring isn’t a surprise, but the emotions behind them are. He sees pain, fear, love, and a dozen other little snippets of emotions. They light up as Deacon begins to talk. It starts with little things: the color of her eyes, her skills with cooking, her abilities with a weapon. A few sentences in he begins to detail how they met.

“She was doing work as a caravanner when I-” Deacon pauses, closes his mouth, looks at floor like it asked him a question, confused. He licks his lips before meeting Maccready’s eyes again. “I’m sorry, that was a lie. I met her at Bunker Hill.” Maccready is surprised. Not that he lied, but that he corrected the lie, admitted his fault. It makes him want to believe what comes out of the spy’s mouth.

The rest of the conversation continues much like that. Deacon talks, lies, corrects himself. By the end Maccready feels like he knows Barbara personally, like he could pick her out of a crowd. He still doesn’t know what happened to her, so he asks. At the mention of her death Deacon’s eyes drop. “Before I tell you how she died… you need to know about my past.” 

Maccready can’t catch Deacon’s eye the entire time he talks, the man keeps his view trained on the floor, like if he looks away something terrible will happen. But Deacon winces as he describes his time with the gang, his voice catches as he details the murder of the suspected synth, and tears gather and slip down his cheeks as he tells Maccready how he watched his wife die, unable to do anything to help. Deacon’s eyes fall shut, his face hardens, and his fist clenches tightly as he describes the retaliation, the rage, the all-consuming sorrow he felt, how he blacked out and woke up surrounded by bodies, covered in blood. He quickly wraps up with how the Railroad approached him, and how he’s been trying to make up for his mistakes ever since.

Suddenly something clicks. “Is that why you disappeared the day we went to University Point to clear out those synths?”

Deacon nods.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that alone.”

Deacon’s brows furrow. “You’re… not going to call me a murderer? You don’t hate me?”

The genuine confusion comes as a surprise. “Of course not.”

The weird thing is, that Maccready sort of understands. There are a lot of things that he did at Little Lamplight, both as a resident and as their mayor, that he regrets. People he let down, decisions he wishes he could take back. More than one kid lost their lives while he was responsible for them, and while it’s not the same as what Deacon did, he’s not going to judge him for something that he’s clearly spent the rest of his life trying to make up for.

The refusal to judge clearly shocks Deacon, which is not something Maccready has really been able to do before. The spy seems to sag in relief, it’s noticeable the way the tension leaves his shoulders and his face relaxes.

“But that’s why I lie, why I hide, and why I change faces,” he finally tears his gaze away from the floor to look Maccready in the eye, “I don’t even really know who I am anymore.”

“Well, what do you know?”

It’s a simple question, but silence stretches out between them for a very long time before Deacon, very quietly, says, “I know that I… I probably love you, but that I also don’t deserve you.”

Maccready huffs at that. “I thought you were done lying.” He gets a confused look in response. “Alright maybe that wasn’t a lie to you, but I think it’s bullshi-er, crap.” The slip of his tongue sends something that looks like fondness over Deacon’s face. Is that how he always looks at him? He never would have been able to tell if Deacon hadn’t taken off his glasses, but if he had been able to see that look maybe he would have been more inclined to believe that the spy had feelings for him, he might have spent less time wondering how Deacon felt if he could see it.

“That was a swear.”

Maccready smiles, soft and warm. “I know, I’ll give you a cap in a minute, but first…” He trails off, leaving the obvious lack of decision unspoken.

“You know I’m not good with this stuff, Mac,” Deacon’s gaze shifts between Maccready’s face and the wall behind him, “I’ve said what I needed to say, and I genuinely don’t know why you’re still here.”

A shrug is the only response Maccready offers at first, but as the seconds tick on with no more conversation he relents with a heavy sigh. “Look, I get it, but seriously, how long ago did that even happen? Ten years? Twenty? I’m not saying you have to forget what happened, but… Deacon,” he waits until he has the other’s man’s full attention, “you’ve got to stop blaming yourself. Her death wasn’t your fault, and you’ve spent, what, half you life, or more, trying to make up for one mistake you made as a teenager?” He leans across the table to curl his fingers around Deacon’s own. “If you need forgiveness, I'll give that to you. You're forgiven.”

Maccready watches something break in Deacon’s composure and feels his heart flutter when the other man squeezes his hand. “I didn’t expect this conversation to go this way, you know?” He doesn’t sound disappointed at all that he was wrong. “I expected you to hate me.”

“I don’t think I could ever hate you.”

Something mischievous twinkles in the spy’s eyes. “What if I told you that I was the one who stole your clothes from the bathhouse?”

“You what?” Maccready leans back, but keeps his hand in Deacon’s. “That happened like four months ago, I never figured out who did it.”

They’re both laughing as they begin to bicker back and forth. Deacon admits to the pranks that he’s pulled both on Maccready and Sanctuary, and Maccready pretends like he didn’t suspect Deacon in more than half of them. They dissolve off into satisfied grins as the conversation winds down. At some point during their talk Deacon had begun to trace shapes over Maccready’s fingers with his thumb, this realization makes his heart swell and he tugs on Deacon’s arm to get his attention.

“Can I kiss you?”

The surprise that that question generates is gone from Deacon’s face in less than a second. “You don’t have to ask me for that.”

“I’ll keep that in mind for next time.” They’re both still smiling when Maccready props himself up to cover the distance between them. Even with the clanking of their teeth, Maccready doesn’t think he’s ever had a better kiss.

 

\----

  
  


Nate is outside for the first time in a week, walking slowly around the perimeter of Sanctuary to rebuild his stamina, when movement from the woods catches his eye. He raises his weapon on shaky arms to look down the scope, surprised to see Maccready working his way through the trees. He’s about to call out to him, maybe see if he’s come to a conclusion, when he also spots Deacon, sunglasses-less and happier looking than Nate has ever seen before.

Deacon says something that the vault dweller can’t make out, but it has Maccready turning towards him, smiling. It’s then that Nate notices the shades he has hidden behind his back. He feels very much like an interloper, watching the two of them in what looks like to be a private moment, but curiosity keeps him from walking away. He wants to see how they interact, needs to know what they were doing in the woods, even if he could probably guess.

They’re too far away from him for Nate to hear what they’re saying, but the two go back and forth for a few seconds, Deacon then lunges forward, an attempt to grab his glasses, but Maccready pulls back and side-steps, keeping them from his grasp. Nate watches the game of cat and mouse play out for a few minutes until Maccready says something that seems to throw Deacon off guard for a brief moment. A bright smile splits Deacon’s face and he nods once before straightening up and closing his eyes. Then, Maccready steps forward, leans up, and slides the sunglasses down over Deacon’s face. Before the shorter man can step back, Deacon reaches up to cup Maccready’s cheek and then leans down quickly, sealing their mouths together in a kiss.

Nate’s grip on his weapon tightens as he watches, if Deacon is taking advantage of Maccready he’ll- his train of thought cuts off when the ex-Gunner melts into the kiss, reaching up with his own arms to loop around Deacon’s neck. His heart clenches when he sees Maccready returning the embrace, not running from it.

Turning away from the view, he realizes that he doesn’t have to wonder what decision Maccready made. It’s too easy for him to see that it wasn’t him. He can’t say that he’s not disappointed, heartbroken, and feeling more than a little overprotective of the younger man, but he also can’t say that he’s not happy for both of them.

And as long as Deacon continues to keep that smile on Maccready’s face, Nate figures that he’ll at least give the man a chance. However, if there’s any hint, any small indication that Deacon is merely playing with Maccready’s feelings, he refuses to take responsibility for what he might do. Just because Maccready didn’t pick him, doesn’t mean he’s not still in love.

Nate turns away from the couple, giving them their privacy, and heads back to his house. He’s not much in the mood for walking any more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all folks, thank you to everyone that came on this journey with me, and hopefully no one was disappointed by how I chose to end this. If you missed it I left a little challenge in the notes at the beginning of this chapter. If you win you could win a 500 word fic from yours truly.
> 
> EDIT: 8/8/19: Congrats to Jaeger Gipsy Danger (Carleen) who figured out that the quote was from The 100! Clarke says this the Bellamy in Season 1!
> 
> EDIT: 8/12/19: [Here's the link to the fic I wrote for the winner of the contest!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20217550)
> 
> \---
> 
> As always, if you enjoyed please leave a comment letting me know what you enjoyed, maybe your favorite chapter or scene. Hearing from you guys always makes my day and inspires me to keep writing. Speaking of... if you enjoyed this fic I've got a few others on my page that you might like, check them out if you'd like to! Or you can come check out my [Tumblr](randomwordsandstormydays.tumblr.com). Once again, thank you to everyone who read, left a kudo, or a comment, y'all have a wonderful day.


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